Lost Brother, Brother Lost
by Sam Worth
Summary: After Don had vanished, Charlie spent every waking hour trying to find him. Little did he know that finding him would be the easy part. Season 5. Amnesic!Don. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue - A Leisurely Evening

__Story is complete in 38 parts. Postings will be every weekday until complete. No posts on Saturday or Sunday.__

 _Set between season 5 and 6._ _Spoilers for_ _Arrow of Time,_ _The Fifth Man and Disturbed. Canon pairings for the season (Charlie/Amita and Don/Robin). No character death.  
_

 _Characters: David Sinclair, Charlie Eppes, Don Eppes, Alan Eppes, Amita Ramanujan, Robin Brooks, Colby Granger, Liz Warner, Nikki Betancourt, Larry Fleinhardt, OCs_

 _Special thanks to **ancientmaverick** for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 _The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred._

* * *

 **PROLOGUE – A LEISURELY EVENING**

* * *

96 billions neurons

47,055 drug overdoses

135 days

1 family

* * *

 **Thu, March 26 - 21:30 - Parking Lot, Los Angeles**

"Thank you for the surprise," Robin said as she walked beside Don. "It was beautiful."

She was in the middle of a juridical fight about the death of a young man in custody that was taking all her time and strength.

"You needed the distraction," Don answered with a slight smile. "And I got an evening with a beautiful woman out of it."

She hit his shoulder playfully. "Charmer," Robin accused him. "But the dinner _was_ wonderful." Delicious food, tasteful décor, and the best possible service - the restaurant had delivered even more than promised. More important for her was his attention. She had told him about her interest in this particular restaurant, and he had listened.

"Glad you enjoyed it," he said, stopping and facing her. Cradling her head in his hands, he gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "And now stop thinking, just for tonight, about Matthew Flynn. He died, and that's a tragedy, but I've read the reports, and you and the DEA did everything right. You are not to blame."

"Yes, I know. But his parents were working hard to get together the bail and post it. He would - he could have been out of jail when the fight broke out." She shook her head. "With the suicide of his roommate now, I'm not so sure anymore that the drugs were his. Maybe he really had been in the wrong room at the wrong time. Something like this shouldn't have killed him."

"Robin." He kissed her again. "Stop thinking about it. You did what you were supposed to do. You are not responsible for his death. He was responsible for his own choices. It was your duty to charge him with the evidence you had. The man who killed Matthew Flynn is the only one responsible for his death."

She nodded. "Yes. But-"

"Stop thinking. And that's an order, counselor."

She smiled. "I don't take orders from agents."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even special agents?"

"No." She grinned and opened her mouth to make a saucy comment when Don's demeanor suddenly changed.

He tensed up, and his warm hands left her face and flew to his waist.

Then she heard the screeching tires.

Everything happened so fast that she would later need to watch the surveillance video on slow motion to follow the movements.

He pushed her back toward the restaurant as a dark van came to a halt next to them. Strong hands grabbed at her. She pushed back. Desperately, she tried to remember the defensive moves she had learned from her family and Don. She used her elbows and fingernails and tried to hit important places.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Don. He fought but she couldn't make out how he was faring. Her breath was coming too fast, everything hurt, and the panic threatened to burst her chest.

She heard shouts and moans and cries as through cotton.

Suddenly, she was free.

"Run!" She heard Don's desperate order. "Run!"

She may have forgotten in her panic how to fight, but she knew instinctively how important it was to do what he told her in a situation like this. She sprinted as hard as possible. After the first few steps, she kicked away her shoes to run on the wet and cold underground. Even the little pebbles hurt like needles on her bare feet.

She focused on her target - the restaurant. She tried to ignore the pain and ran despite how much it hurt, knowing it slowed her down.

A loud bang destroyed the cotton in her ears. Everything returned with vehemence in full loudness.

She fell forward. Reflexively, her arms shot out and caught her as she crumbled to the ground.

"Robin!"

She heard his call. She really heard it, but she didn't understand why she would be lying on the cold, wet ground. Don wouldn't let her fall if it was cold or slick. But hadn't she been in LA? There shouldn't be snow around.

"Robin!"

He sounded far away.

A pain she had never felt before hit her from inside. She jerked and pulled her knees to her chest. Tears sprung to her eyes. She didn't understand what was going on.

Her hands found the source of the pain and pressed against it. For a moment, everything turned dark.

"Robin!"

She startled at the clarity of her senses as they returned. Staring at her hand, she watched, fascinated, as the red blood dripped to the ground. She forced herself to turn, seeking out the sound of fighting.

Between her and the dark van, a man laid on the ground writhing and moaning. A wave of dizziness swept over her. She just needed to close her eyes for a moment.

The hurt man managed to climb to his feet. He held his arm across his chest and started to run away. She kept searching for her target. Far away, as if she would look through a tunnel, she then found Don.

Two men were dragging him to the van. He wasn't fighting anymore.

Why didn't he fight?

Frantically Robin looked around until she saw the restaurant. He had sent her back. Why had he sent her back? Probably to get help.

She tried to get her feet under her, but the pain in her abdomen kept her pinned to the ground.

Crying and fighting for breath, she started to crawl.

She only had one aim: get help for Don.

Hands were grabbing her arms and pulling her away.

Everything went dark. Robin fought to stay awake. She needed to get help. For Don.

It took great effort to open her eyes, but even as she did so, something pressed on her stomach. Her cry of pain turned into sobbing. The pain felt like fire crawling through her insides.

Her fingernails scratched at the ground, desperately trying to find something to hold on. She tried to roll away from the pain, but nothing worked anymore.

She needed to tell them something, but the pain was making it impossible to think.

She gasped, fresh waves of pain rolling over her as blood filled her mouth. She tasted iron on her lips, and the voices around her grew louder, speaking with greater urgency.

"Don," she breathed. "Don. You've got to help Don."

More blood collected in her mouth.

'He is an FBI agent. You have to call his team.'

Why wasn't anyone reacting? She'd spoken clearly, hadn't she? No. The words had only been spoken in her mind. She tried again.

"Don!"

And then, black. She wouldn't regain consciousness again until it was too late.

* * *

 _TBC_


	2. Connected By Math

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **CONNECTED BY MATH**

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 **Tue, Sept 22 - 07:21 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

" _Don!_ "

Charlie jerked upwards with a silent cry. He shivered in the light morning breeze, his breath coming in short gasps.

Eyes wide open, he looked around, trying to disentangle himself from the nightmare as much as from his blankets. The desperation lingered in his chest as the images of his dream mixed with reality.

The bed beside him was empty.

He dragged himself up and staggered out of his room. The longer he remained upright, the clearer the world around him became. As he reached Don's old room, he shoved down the pain in his chest. Noone had slept in there for a long time. Instead, the room was full of boxes. It was everything they had taken from his apartment after they had to clear it out.

Without much hope, he trotted downstairs, but the couch was as undisrupted as it had been for the last six months.

In his dreams, he found Don. But just as he tried to grab him and hold onto him, Don slipped away. Charlie called and ran after him, but he was never fast enough. It was always the same dream.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked out to the garage. His chalkboards still promised him comfort and security and hope.

Instead, he stood in the middle of his living room and felt lost. Amita had chosen to sleep in the guest room after their last argument about Don. Lately, it seemed all they did was argue.

The cool morning breeze caused a shiver as he tried to decide what to do next. His eyes fell on the big chalkboard. It didn't belong there, but he recognized his father's handwriting right away. Apparently, his dad had written down his rules, despite engaging Amita and Larry as his bodyguards and spies.

Charlie smiled a little as he read the first rule again.

"Every day starts with a short breakfast before math is allowed!" he read aloud.

Shaking his head, he walked barefoot into the kitchen. Hopefully, his father didn't actually expect him not to calculate the ratio of water to coffee grinds in order to brew a cup of coffee. It also would be really dangerous not to calculate the distance between the table and cupboards. He could seriously hurt himself.

"Good morning," Amita greeted as she stepped around him.

Charlie stopped. "Morning." Amita was already dressed for work. "Are you-"

"I have some lectures to prepare, and I forgot my notes in the office. So I …," she trailed off. She wrung her hands and looked down. "Charlie, I never meant-"

But Charlie interrupted her. "I know that you believe that Don is dead, but please do not start planning his funeral until you have a body."

Amita closed her eyes with a deep sigh. "Charlie, I only made a photo collage for your father. Nothing more."

Mentally calculating six digit multiplication tables, Charlie tried to stay calm. "My dad doesn't need a photo collage." Somehow the possessive pronoun seemed important.

She pulled her hair back into an easy ponytail and gave Charlie a sad smile. "Charlie, while you calculate ways to find Don, probability for locations and ideas to bring Flynn down, your father sits in the living room and looks through all his photo albums. He hides it, but he misses Don badly, and he needs his memories to keep him company."

"Oh." Charlie had nothing else to say. His eyes found the wedding picture of his parents on the counter. His father had put a picture of their mother in every room after her death. Maybe he really did need the pictures. He wouldn't know; besides the most basic work for CalSci, he had spent all of his waking hours trying to find Don. His dad had always seemed fine.

"I put a copy of the collage on your laptop so you can see for yourself. At the moment, they're only childhood photos."

She grabbed a cardigan hanging over the back of a kitchen stool. He probably had forgotten it there.

Holding out the cardigan, she stood next to him in the kitchen entrance. "I need to go. I'll see you later." Amita pressed her lips together as if she needed to swallow other words, gave him a short kiss, and the cardigan, and then left the house.

Charlie remained alone. He put on the cardigan as his gaze again wandered to the garage. If he could just find Don, then everything would be alright again.

With a sigh, he tried to finish the first rule, or his father would make good on his threats and return early.

As he opened the fridge, he found another note. Raising his eyebrows, he carefully picked up the yellow post-it-note.

"I am proud of you," he read in his father's neat handwriting. "But don't forget to get to CalSci on time."

This time Charlie laughed out loud. Now he knew why his father had needed a whole day to prepare for a five-day vacation with Stan.

"It's a miracle that Alan agreed to go at all, isn't it?"

Charlie's heart doubled in speed. He whirled around. It took him a moment to recognize the voice. He sighed with relief and touched his chest.

"Larry," his voice still sounded a little strangled. "What, what..."

The man in question stood in the door to the kitchen. "Oh, I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you! I promised Alan to look after you. Amita let me in on her way out. She decided to try another approach to the map analysis you two first used. She sounded quite ..."

Charlie shook his head and returned his attention to the fridge. A small flicker of hope and admiration bloomed in his chest. Despite their differences in dealing with Don's disappearance, maybe they could keep their common ground in math and logic.

"... so I could keep my commitment to Alan."

"I don't think dad meant that you should scare me half to death."

Larry nodded. "That would be counter intuitive to his aim." He looked around and his thoughtful eyes took everything in. "I see you've slept."

Charlie carefully kept his head turned away as he shrugged his shoulders. "I promised."

Larry nodded again. "How much progress did you make in your equation?"

Turning around, he gave his friend a rueful smile. "Based on the new bank accounts that Nikki managed to dig up, I calculated a seventy percent chance that the money for the hit was used to buy local muscle through the drug rehabilitation center."

Larry took two cups out of the cupboard and brought them over to the table. Then he gave Charlie a thoughtful look. "I thought the FBI searched the center and checked every employee and attendee but found nothing to link any of them to Don."

Charlie's face lit up with a bright smile. "Exactly." He crossed the distance to Larry and clapped him on the shoulder. "And that means that Don is alive, because if they had killed him, something would have been found or somebody would have bragged about it"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Larry started, but Charlie waved him off.

"I know, I know. Then where is he? The equation still suffers from too many variables, but with the latest result maybe David will help me again." Charlie filled the cups and handed Larry the white one. "It is at least white on the outside?" he offered with a smile.

Larry took the cup. "Maybe it is time to take a new approach to the search..."

Charlie stopped, his back ramrod straight. With a stony face he regarded Larry. "For the sake of our friendship, I hope that new approach is not - again - that I should accept that Don may be dead!"

Responding to the aggressive stance of his friend, Larry came to a halt. "I was thinking we could focus more on what could possibly prevent Don from coming home."

Both Charlie and Larry jumped as the radio suddenly burst to life.

Charlie recovered first and started to laugh. "Dad."

Larry joined in. "I guess I underestimated Alan's backup plans."

Together, they began to prepare a simple breakfast as the voice droned on in the background.

" _... In other news: this morning began the first day of the trial against Steven Twist and Sergey Kirkan. Both are charged with the kidnapping and assault of FBI Special Agent Don Eppes. Eppes is presumed dead, and the search for his body is still -_ "

Charlie hit the off button with more force than necessary.

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 07:30 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

" _...FBI Special Agent Don Eppes. Eppes is presumed de_ _a_ _d, and the search for his body is still underway. Twist and Kirkan were identified as the assailants after the FBI reviewed surveillance video. The defense has already announced that they plan to -_ "

David pressed the button to the next radio station.

" _\- let's all take an extra moment this morning to enjoy each other's company and to tell your loved ones how much you love them. You really never know if you will see them again. This is the most important lesson we can take from the trial starting today. On a leisurely evening stroll, the lives of Agent Don Eppes and his girlfriend Robin Brooks changed forever. Wherever Agent Eppes may be, let's hope that he knew how important he was to his family, friends, and co-workers. The number of volunteers aiding in the search is testament to that fact._

" _But not even this amount of support has prevented the FBI to declare that the case is growing colder by the -_ "

David hit the off button. He didn't need some random disk jockey telling him that he had messed up. Nobody was saying it, though Robin was probably thinking it, but David knew the truth. If roles had been reversed, Don would have found him, but Don wasn't here, and that was David's fault.

He drove the last miles to the FBI office in silence. As he put the car in park, he spotted Liz and Nikki waiting for him.

"What's the emergency?" he asked as he slid out of his SUV.

"Agent Paul is back." Nikki had her arms crossed in front of her body. Her dark hair seemed more out of order than usual. Her face was still, but her voice was brimming with fury.

"It stands to reason," David answered wearily. "With the process-"

"She's back to find a body," Liz interrupted him. A small breeze cooled the air.

Colby joined them from behind the impromptu team meeting. "What's going on? Why are we meeting outside?"

David caught the pinch of Nikki's face before he could answer. He turned around, already suspecting who would be behind him.

An African-American woman in her forties, her dark hair severely pulled back, approached them with a proud and purposeful stride.

Nobody said anything until she had joined them. "Agent Sinclair. Agent Granger. Agent Betancourt. Agent Warner." She greeted everybody with a name and a nod. "I thought I'd find you all here."

As the silence stretched, David forced a greeting from his lips. "Agent Paul." He was the new boss and had to speak for the team.

Agent Gretchen Paul pretended to be unaffected by the hostile stares and took a sip of her coffee. The aroma reminded David that he had yet to acquire a cup for himself.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing I did six months ago. I want to find Agent Eppes' body and lock up his killer."

"And you're sure this time that Don's dead? Any new leads you forget to share?"

"Agent Sinclair, I admire your loyalty, but don't you think that it would be even worse for Agent Eppes if he's still alive?" She took a long sip from her still steaming cup of coffee. Nothing on her face indicated the pain she surely had to feel.

"I know three people who would do anything to get Don back regardless," Colby pointed out.

"I have no doubt that what his family most desires is closure. That's why we cannot carry on like we have been. Two separate investigations means nothing gets done, and Agent Eppes' family will have to live with the consequences."

"Then why can't he be alive?" Liz asked. Of the four of them, she had the best rapport with Agent Paul.

"Agent Warner, I've run many investigations into men like Flynn. He knows how to stay on top, and he does it by never leaving a witness behind. Flynn wouldn't be cruising on with his business if he still felt threatened by Don Eppes."

Nikki gave a short nod. "Good. Then it's clear. Don is alive."

Agent Paul gave Nikki a cold smile. "And why is that?"

"Easy. I just choose to believe the opposite of what you believe, ma'am." Nikki gave as false a smile back as she had received.

"Despite what you think, Agent Betancourt, I only want the best for Agent Eppes' family and to get justice for him." The smile remained frozen on Agent Paul's face.

"Except we disagree whether it would be best if he is alive or dead," Colby wryly noted.

Agent Paul raised an eyebrow. "Would it be better if he'd been in on it and was being paid off to remain out of the picture? That certainly wouldn't be good for him or his family. "

"You don't know Don at all," Colby said. "You couldn't pay him enough to do this to his family."

"And so we are back to finding a body. If Agent Eppes is anything like his file suggests, this is the only remaining option if you don't want to entertain some strange fairy tales and Hollywood movies."

"And if he's hurt?" Liz asked, before anybody else could rise to the bait and start again a fight. She hadn't given up on Don.

"Then he would have died without medical intervention, or he would have ended in a hospital where his fingerprints would have been taken or somebody would have recognized him. All of California knew about our missing agent."

Paul turned to look behind her. Special Agents Lennard Andrew and Miranda Chun, her primary team, had arrived and were waiting by the elevator. She nodded and returned her focus to David's team. "Flynn would have gained nothing by keeping him alive. The risk wasn't worth it. So either Don Eppes cooperated with him, or he is dead."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" David interrupted before Nikki could launch a counter attack. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We all agree that we want justice for Don, Agent Ward, and Robin Brooks. And to achieve this, we need -"

"- to nail Flynn. It's easy as this: get Flynn, and we will get our answers."

Nikki gave a predatory smirk. "And why haven't you gotten him already? If you have already figured this out and know everything?"

Agent Paul pinched the bridge of her nose. David had more expected an angry rebuttal than a silent sigh. Maybe she felt as guilty as he did about the trail going cold.

"Joe Flynn has been an expert in his field for the last thirty years. He knows what he is doing, and he -" she sighed and looked around, "he is either the luckiest guy in the world, or somebody is feeding him information."

"You really believe he was able to turn someone." David really longed for that coffee. This would explain why Agent Paul would seek them out in front of the building, away from listening ears. They were probably the people least likely to share information.

"Flynn is too well informed, but it can't just be Eppes, because Flynn also has access to new information. The fact that no one is bragging about Eppes' death tells me that he was killed by professionals who hid his body very well."

Liz shuddered. David couldn't really think a straight line from Don to dead body despite knowing it was the most logical conclusion..

"But you've known this for the last six months. Why come back now?" Colby asked.

David raised his head. Suddenly, he understood. "How thin is the ice our case is resting on?"

Agent Paul pressed her lips together before she answered. "Let's put it like this: Assistant US Attorney Howard Meeks is a magnificent magician. He lets people see things that aren't there."

"So it's all a great illusion."

She nodded. "Flynn, Twist, and Kirkan will walk without any repercussions because we've got nothing that's going to hold up in court."

Silence descended on the group. This time even Colby shivered in the slight breeze.

Nikki broke the spell. "So we are back on an active case to find new evidence?" she asked.

"No, _I_ am back on a cold case. _You_ stay out of my way." With this, Agent Paul turned on her heels and marched back to the building and her team.

The team watched her.

"What a -"

"Nikki," David warned her. "Think whatever you want to think, but don't say it in front of me! She is a seasoned agent and your superior."

Nikki swallowed whatever she had wanted to say. Instead, she sent a dark glare full of promises into the back of Agent Paul.

Liz tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "If she suspects a leak in the office, why tell us?"

Colby grimaced. "Because she hopes to flush it out through us."

"Nice." Nikki spat on the ground. At David's raised eyebrow, she simply answered, "I got a bad taste in my mouth."

"Let's get back to the work we get paid for. Maybe Charlie has something new or can make something out of this."

David sighed. If this trial failed, he couldn't even bring Alan, Charlie and Robin a little bit of justice. He needed to find Don, one way or another.

* * *

 _TBC_


	3. Connected By Math II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **CONNECTED BY MATH II**

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 **Tue, Sept 22 - 07:35 - Boyd's Diner, Los Angeles**

The radio droned on as background noise. Boyd's Diner was, like always, pretty empty, and Zoe could listen to the news before she had to serve the incoming construction workers. Only a few tables were filled with weary travelers or cops. Right around the corner, they were building the new prime real estate of the city. But aside from workers and cops, nobody seemed to care about this.

" _... the body hasn't been found yet. Attorney Robin Brooks, however, survived emergency surgery. AUSA Howard Meeks is leading the case against the defendants, Steven Twist and Sergey Kirkan, who the defense argues the prosecution randomly targeted to avenge their missing agent. In their point of view, this trial is an act of despair because they can't close their own case and need a scapegoat. Neutral observers remained reserved about the chances of success. If the prosecution could manage to prove what had happened to Agent Eppes, their chances would increase by ..._ "

Zoe balanced four cups of coffee on her tray as she quickly walked to the table filled with regular cops coming or going from shift. As a veteran waitress, something not easily achieved with Mr Boyd's irascibility, she had served long enough to know the regulars.

"Coffee, black, white and pink for everybody," she joked as she started to put down the cups.

Before anyone could respond, the bell over the door rang. Her shoulders slacked as she recognized the type of their new customer. Her co-worker Nancy greeted the woman, and her tight smile and pained grimace painted a dark picture. It was one of those never-satisfied customers who would go up all the way to the President if necessary to get what she deserved, or liked to think she deserved.

With something between a sigh and grin, Zoe went to help Nancy to provide the best service possible to the lady. They both depended on this job and couldn't risk getting a complaint.

It took a long half an hour until the lady left with a tired smile for the small and totally below her standards food and service. But Zoe was comfortable that there wouldn't be a complaint.

Cleaning the tables she had abandoned, she found a good tip from the officers together with a hand scribbled note: 'Go get her!' Apparently, the officers could relate to the pain of dealing with difficult people as much as she could.

"Did the cops give you a good tip?" Nancy asked as she strolled over with her own tip from her tables. "They seem to really like you. Maybe you should forget about your actress plan and marry a cop, instead. I heard they make good money."

Zoe snorted. "I didn't come to LA to marry. I came here to become an actress."

Nancy raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "See where you landed."

"Just wait. Real talent cannot go to waste."

Nancy laughed. "Yeah, sure, dream on. Maybe after you got rich. Which reminds me: maybe you should talk to John again." She leaned conspiring near and whispered, "For my plan."

"You think?" She counted the money and glanced at the clock. John was a good option. He couldn't be on shift after the night shift he had taken. There was enough time to bring him a cup of coffee.

"Are you serious? Are you even listening? We could make a lot of money by pretending that he is the missing FBI agent. He looks good enough. He'd just need to take off the beard and let his hair grow, and we're good to go. We wouldn't even need to do anything illegal. We'd be just selling our story, or his story, to the newspapers. Then we would get rich."

"Are we talking about the same John?" Zoe laughed. "There is no way he'd ever agree to do something like this." Then she became serious again. "He would never play with the man's family like this."

"Are you sure? He keeps his distance from the men in blue like somebody who has something to hide. This doesn't strike me as a harmless man who'd never do something like this." She raised her index finger. "I tell you, he isn't what he appears to be."

"Whatever. He saved my life, and as a thank you present, I am going to bring him a coffee. Cover me?"

Nancy didn't answer, just waved her hand.

It was the best time to take a break. That's all.

Zoe grabbed a cup of coffee and used her tip money to cover as she left through the back door.

The hot air was almost an assault, and she hurried though the back alley to their almost legal home. She ducked under the dark tent fabric and entered the old abandoned warehouse.

"Home sweet home," she murmured. For a place excusing her from paying rent, it was the best deal she could get: solid, quiet, and hidden.

"Honey, I'm home!" She called out gently. It was a pretty safe place, but she still used her voice sparingly and tried to keep quiet. No need to attract unwanted attention.

Finally, her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to walk safely.

All the windows were tinted or just so dirty that the light shining through was sufficiently dimmed. Her feet followed the established route she walked every day. A last corner and through another overhang, she entered her apartment. Or better, it was John's apartment, but he let her stay.

"John?" It was a question and a warning in one single word. John's ability to startle stopped being funny weeks ago.

They used tarpaulin as margin to separate a kitchen from their rooms. It used to be one room for John alone, but one day she had come in, and he had hung another tarpaulin for her room. Their fridge was a real fridge. Sometimes they had power, and sometimes they didn't. She never asked. Zoe didn't know where John scared up the washbowl, but she liked the luxury it provided. The only thing she really missed was a bathroom. She could use the toilets at the diner, but she sorely missed having a bathtub. She didn't know how John managed, but she never dared to ask.

She navigated to a junction. To the left was her room, but she went right to John's room.

"John?" she called out again. With her free hand, she wafted the coffee aroma to him. "John? This is your wake-up call."

There was a groan followed by a big thump.

Zoe smiled as the groan turned into grumbling. She took a step back just as John appeared. "What?"

She held up the cup of coffee. "I brought you a cup of coffee."

Slowly the blank face morphed into recognition. A yawn overtook him and swallowed his answer, if he had answered her. Zoe pressed the cup into his hands before he could protest.

"Thanks," he said. His voice sounded hoarse as if he had just woken up.

Zoe bit her lip. On the one hand, she was concerned about his health. On the other hand, she knew how much he hated if she interfered with his life. But after a look at his drawn face, she decided to go forward. "How much sleep did you get?"

His head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "Not enough."

Somehow, she had expected this. He worked as much as the foreman allowed him to do. The rest of the time he spent modifying this little living space. If he slept, he dreamed. And going by the sounds of it, none of his dreams were good.

She put on her brightest smile. "Then it's perfect that the LAPD treated you to a cup of coffee!"

He stopped any movement like he'd been frozen on the spot. For a moment, Zoe feared he had even stopped breathing. Giving him a rueful smile, she held up her hands and retreated. "Don't worry; I bought it with the tip they gave me. Nobody knows you're here."

His wide eyes began darting around the limited space as if he had suddenly realized that somebody could be here.

"Gee, relax." She slapped his chest carefully. "You really need to do something about your fear of cops. They are not interested in you! You work hard; you live a little illegally, but with the blessing of your boss." She gave him a big smile. "Relax!"

His corner of his mouth twitched like he was almost smiling. "Yeah, easy for you to say. They like you."

She turned and sauntered back into the kitchen with a swing in her hip. "What's not to love about me?"

"Your bossy behavior, your optimism, your 'devil-may-care'-attitude, your-"

"I got it," Zoe interrupted with a wave. She went back into their kitchen, John following her. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, he looked bad.

"So … did you remember something?"

He looked up from his coffee. With careful raised eyebrows, he regarded her steadily.

She shrugged. "I heard you last night and thought maybe -" She shrugged again.

"Remind me again, why did I tell you about my memory?"

Zoe smiled. "Because your headache was so bad that you couldn't walk a straight line, and you explained it with brain damage."

"Right," John sighed. "Brain damage is the right word."

"If you ask me, you're not very -," Zoe interrupted herself at his dark and warning glare. It was time to switch the topic and go back to work. "My mother's birthday is soon. I thought about calling her, but I don't want to end in an argument again."

John looked down. "You should call her as long as she is still alive."

She waited a moment, and then dared to ask: "You think your mother is dead? Or do you remember?"

He closed his eyes and concentrated. "I remember a doorbell, several shots, and a dark car speeding away; and then she was dead. I just don't know if it's my mother or ..." He pressed his fingers into his forehead like he always did if he tried to force his brain to cooperate.

Using her comb that she left on the table, she remade her hair. "Do you ever dream about something peaceful and nice?"

John shook himself out of his memories and snorted. "The most peaceful stuff I dream about is math, and that isn't as much peaceful as confusing."

"Right, so what are you going to do about it?"

Shrugging, he glanced at his watch. It was a cheap watch that never quite worked right, but he still checked constantly. "I can't return to work for a few hours more. One of the guys said he studied for a few months at CalSci. Their math department is supposed to be nice and well connected. Maybe they can help me to identify the math in my head."

She gave him one of her brightest smile. "This is an awesome idea. I'll go on record and tell you: you are probably a really brilliant mind, and they will recognize you instantly."

"Ha, ha, ha." John cleared his cup. "Thank you for the coffee." He started to walk away.

Biting her lip, she fought for a moment with herself but then she asked, "Do you have your notebook?"

The notebook was a sensitive topic. He guarded it to the best of his abilities. She only managed to get glimpses of the contents. She knew that he drew everything he remembered in the book. Mostly it was a collection of his nightmares.

And if she went by the few images she had ever seen, the only good memories in the book were an old craftsman house and the math he had actually shown her.

Somehow, he had hoped that she would understand math. But despite being less than two years out of school, she only remembered enough math to do her job. His math was way out of her league.

He regarded her steadily, raising a hand as he left. "Thanks again for the coffee."

When she couldn't hear him anymore, she added into the silent room her heartfelt wish: "Good luck."

She really hoped he would find the answers he was looking for.

* * *

 _TBC_


	4. Connected By Math III

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **CONNECTED BY MATH III**

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 09:00- CalSci, Los Angeles**

Charlie had promised his father to go to CalSci, to teach, and to have office hours. He also promised to eat, sleep, and care for the house and everything else.

Alan had given Charlie a long list of things to do while he was away, despite the fact that he would only be gone for five days, with the option to add a day or two. Charlie had no illusions that he would be back at the earliest possible date.

Despite the promises and hard won argument, Charlie was glad that his father had accepted the offer of a trip. Since Don had disappeared, Alan had worked himself nearly into the ground to keep everything afloat.

Dealing with the FBI, the press, Robin's injury, and then still trying to help the hurt and desperate team and son was more than a man his age should have to do.

Charlie sighed as he drove to his given parking space. He wasn't ready for a day at the office.

In a twist of pure irony, he had produced some of his most important work in the last six months. Everything he did was an attempt to find his brother, but only the scientific community was profiting from it.

Charlie hated it. His Cognitive Emergence theory brought him respect and recognition, but it still failed miserably to find his brother.

In a rare display of anger, he hit the steering wheel. He had enough data, it should work. The Flynn Syndicate, or Flynn Logistic Group, was under federal investigation long enough that David just pointed him to database with all their previous investigations. Everything in the files helped indicate how Joe Flynn, the sole head of the business, operated, and yet it still failed to produce the necessary results to find his brother.

The clock hand moved again. If he wanted to be on time, he needed to hurry. After grabbing his laptop from the passenger seat, he got out of his car.

There was a presence behind him.

His heart started to pump furiously as the adrenaline flooded his body. His mind screamed danger as numbers ran through his mind: distance to safety, number of people around, time for help to arrive.

"Professor Eppes!"

That didn't sound very threatening. It was more a plea. Hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he just thought too much about Don.

Charlie turned. A young man in dark jeans and an old hoodie stood in front of him. Charlie inspected his face. As recognition set in, his hope shattered once again.

"Thomas."

The young man stared at him with red eyes and ragged features that commingled panic and confidence.

"Professor Eppes, you need to change my grade!"

Charlie took a deep breath as he felt the warm surface of his Prius in his back.

"Thomas, you can retake the course. I'll help you."

"No," the young man shouted. "No! You need to change my grade now!"

Suddenly, the young man had a knife in his hand. It wasn't a simple or small knife. It was the biggest kitchen knife Charlie had ever seen.

He couldn't take his eyes of the knife or the shaking hands holding it. Rationally, he knew that he needed to call for help. That he needed the help of the surrounding people, or the campus police.

But fear kept him paralyzed and his mouth shut.

"Professor Eppes, I can't fail. I need this grade! You have to change it!" Desperation bled into the young man's voice.

It was crazy. He could almost hear his father's voice telling him to agree and then change it back. But it was a fundamental question of principles. He couldn't do this.

Decision made, he had to communicate it and convince this troubled young man to just go. "Thomas-,"

"Do you need help?"

Both Charlie and the young man jumped in surprise. Charlie hadn't seen anybody approaching. But his relief refueled the young man's panic.

The new man's face was mostly hidden by a baseball cap, so Charlie could only assume that his eyes were on the knife that Thomas now swung in his direction.

"Stay out of it, man. It doesn't concern you."

Charlie expected the man to retreat to a safer distance, but the exact opposite happened.

Lightning quick, almost too fast for Charlie to track, the man grabbed the knife-wielding hand and captured Thomas' wrist. "I don't think so."

"Let me go," said Thomas, trying to pull his hand free.

"Drop the knife," the man said. Something stirred in Charlie's mind as he heard the commanding tone, but fear held him captive.

"No!" Thomas stopped his pulling motion and instead drove forward.

The next thing Charlie saw was flailing arms and bodies until suddenly the new man had Thomas face down on the ground. For a few seconds, everything was completely still. Then Thomas started to thrash around. The man restrained him with ease by holding his wrist and twisting Thomas' arm upwards.

Charlie released a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. Slowly exhaling through his nose, he took a careful step away from his car.

"I already called the police," a student said.

Charlie blinked as suddenly his focus widened again. He took in the silence and the big circle of emptiness around him. At the outer circle the student stood carefully holding up her phone as proof. She had called the police as her way of helping.

He gave her a nod of approval. "Thank you," Charlie said. He was pretty proud that his voice didn't shake as much as his hands did. His senses returned with force, and everything felt raw and sharpened.

Thomas finally stopped struggling and laid still.

Charlie plucked up courage and stepped around the scene to his savior.

"Thank you, sir," Charlie said.

The man looked up from his task. The confusion on his face was at odds with the confidence his body language radiated.

Charlie opened his mouth to repeat his thanks as he got his first good look at his savior. Faster than any number ever run through his mind, he recognized him. It was like a physical blow stealing his breath.

"Don," he whispered.

The confusion seemed to spread from his face to the man's whole body.

Two students came forward and overtook the task of restraining his would-be attacker as the man's hold lessened. Charlie and his rescuer stared at each other silently.

"Don," Charlie pleaded, but the man just looked more confused. Concentration settled across his features as if he had to figure out a deep problem.

The man used the car next to him and stood up.

Charlie reached out his hand. For a moment, he assumed that he was dreaming. It was like his dream. His brother stood in front of him, and he couldn't reach him.

The shrill police sirens broke whatever spell had been cast.

The confusion vanished and was replaced by panic. Like a corned animal, the man with a baseball cap bolted from the scene.

"Don!" Charlie grabbed empty air where his brother had stood. He wanted to run after him but his feet were rooted on the spot. His rational mind supplied that this couldn't be.

But his heart told him otherwise as he watched the man sprinting away. His nightmare had become reality. He had just found his brother, only to lose him once more.

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 09:45 - CalSci, Los Angeles**

Charlie hadn't consulted with the FBI since they had stopped looking for Don. The official statement cited only reduced dedicated manpower. Charlie had fought it. But then they sent off Agent Paul who had run the task force. So, while there was still officially an ongoing investigation, Charlie knew that the FBI had all but stopped their search.

Charlie had refused to help them with any case as long as his brother was missing.

He knew agents whispered behind his back that Don was dead. He knew even the team believed this. But at least they hadn't stopped looking.

David, Colby, Liz, and even Nikki, the newest agent, had all continued to search in their private time. Even Amita and Larry didn't stop helping him, despite believing that it would be healthier to mourn Don.

Charlie would like to make a stand to force them to believe that Don was alive, but in the end he took all help he could get. They searched for Don to honor him; not to make another notch on their gun like this Agent Paul.

But as he held his cell phone in his hand, he could only think about calling one person. The only person who believed, really believed, that Don was still alive. Robin believed it with all her heart. She had hunted for the man behind Don's disappearance, and fought simultaneously her office and the FBI to keep going. Without her, not even David's willingness to help would have given him the necessary data.

He tried her cell phone but only got voicemail.

Tears brimming in his eyes, he hit speed dial for Robin's office. She deserved to know first.

"AUSA Robin Brooks' office, Oliver Guire speaking. How can I help you?" Her assistant greeted him.

"Hello Mr. Guire, this is Charlie Eppes," Charlie swallowed hard as he heard the first time how badly his voice reflected his inner turmoil, "I need to talk to Robin."

He was supposed to keep the semblance of formality but figured with her assistant it would be okay. Everything he knew about the red-haired Irish man suggested that he could keep a secret, as well as understand what it meant to lose family or brothers.

"Professor Eppes, Ms. Brooks is currently in court. Can I take a message?" he asked in his pleasant Irish accent.

Paralyzed with indecision, he stood still for a moment and observed the surrounding scene. Campus police had taken Thomas Pliers into custody. They were still busy talking to all the witnesses that Charlie had failed to see earlier.

In the distance, he could see a big SUV with flashing lights. Flashing lights meant that Colby or Nikki drove because they had adopted Don's sense of overprotection. David and Liz were more reserved and less likely to use sirens to get what they wanted. Campus Police had called them.

"Are you still there, Professor Eppes?"

Charlie's focus remained on the arriving federal agents. Sure enough, David and Nikki left the vehicle.

"Yes, I am here." He only had seconds until David would reach him. He made a decision. "Tell her please that she needs to call me back immediately." But it wouldn't guarantee success, so he added, "Tell her that I saw Don. He is alive."

At the last sentence, he had to choke back a sob. The sharp intake of breath at the other end meant that the message and its urgency had been received. "Please," Charlie added and prepared to close his phone.

"I understand," Oliver Guire answered.

Charlie heard the concerned undertone assuming he was worried about his boss and how she would take this news.

"Thank you," he said and snapped his phone close just as David came to a halt in front of him.

Concern was deeply embedded on his face. "Are you okay?"

Charlie was emotionally done. He nodded and then he shook his head. Words were beyond his realm as he closed his eyes and remembered the man, his brother, in front of him.

He hadn't been able to reach him. He hadn't been able to hold onto him.

* * *

 _TBC_


	5. Dead Or Alive

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and for your reviews, follow, and favorite._

* * *

 **DEAD OR ALIVE**

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 12:04 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Amita had driven Charlie home after a tearful reunion in the parking lot.

David had taken the time to collect as much information as possible and then followed him to the Eppes home. Alan had asked him to keep an eye on Charlie while he was out of town, so he knew Alan wasn't home. But Amita had needed some time to have Charlie to herself and to be reassured that nothing bad had happened.

Now, as he knocked on the door, he needed answers. He needed more answers than Nikki could provide in the short report she had gotten from the responding officers.

The door opened. "David, come in," Amita greeted him.

"I'm headed back to campus, but…" She searched his face, then leaned forward and whispered, "Was it really Don?"

David pressed his lips together and shook his head. The tension drained from her shoulders, and she rubbed at her eyes. "This will destroy him."

"We're still waiting for the fingerprints," David answered. "But nothing indicates that it was Don."

Amita nodded, tears threatening to fall. "I really need to go back. Charlie is in the kitchen."

She closed the door behind her. Despite what Charlie thought, she clearly hurt as much as he did and missed Don.

Charlie sat quietly at the kitchen table. It was a strange scene.

"Charlie?"

"It was him," Charlie said and turned to face David with big eyes. He was clearly asking to be believed. David swallowed hard and put his hand in his trouser pocket.

"Who?" he prodded as Charlie fell silent. He had garnered this much information from the first short call Campus Police had given him. But as an FBI agent he had to hear it again.

"Don." Charlie looked at him with a look of a sad lost puppy.

David turned away and encircled the table to hide his own pain. "What happened?"

"My student, Thomas – Thomas Prier – was threatening me with a knife, telling me to change his grade, and then suddenly a man was there and asked if I needed help. Thomas attacked him, and the man took him down in two seconds flat." Charlie recounted the sequence of the events. David easily detected the structure of the police interview still fresh in Charlie's mind. He would usually tell the story completely differently.

"I wanted to thank the man, so I walked around until I could see his face under the baseball cap."

David made a mental note of a baseball cap. It was an important feature when they scanned the videotapes. He would check it out, even with Agent Paul looking over his shoulder.

"He looked up-" Charlie spread his fingers and stared at David with big helpless eyes. "It was him."

Suddenly Charlie stood up and paced. "He was thin, at least in the face. And he had grown a beard. His hair was short as if he had cut it himself, and he just looked different."

"But you're sure it was Don?" David allowed the doubt to blend into his voice.

Charlie swirled around. "Yes!" The anger in his voice was only matched by the anger on his face.

"Okay." David knew when to back down. "Why are you so sure? You said yourself he looked different."

Charlie took a deep breath. "I wouldn't have looked twice if I had just seen a picture of his face. But I met him," he explained. "I spoke to him, and I could see his movement, I saw how he took down Thomas. I saw his look." Charlie's voice drifted off, and his eyes glazed over as he remembered.

"What look?" David carefully maintained his voice and body language to be as neutral as possible. The better Charlie would remember, the more important facts could be extracted out of his mind and translated into words.

"He stared at me as if he knew me but couldn't figure out how. Larry looks like this a lot. Someone greets him and he smiles, but he can't remember how he knows them, just that he does. That was the look Don had on his face. He clearly knew me but couldn't place me." The professor turned away.

"Why wouldn't he recognize you?"

Charlie swirled around again. "I don't know!" He sounded loud and angry as if he had asked himself the question already a thousand times. "Maybe he doesn't remember me, or maybe he was taught to forget, or maybe I have changed so much or -"

"Charlie," David held up a hand to stop the river of words coming out of Charlie's mouth. "I get it. But the way he looked could also be the confusion of the situation-"

"You think I wished so much that it would be Don, that I convinced myself of it?" He crossed his arms in front of him.

"No. Yes. It's a possibility. I just can't image a good reason for Don to be near you but not reaching out."

"Maybe-"

David stopped him by holding up his hand. "Let's finish with the facts, and then let's talk about motive, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie agreed.

"What happened then?"

"The police arrived. I think that the sirens startled him so badly that he ran away."

"He ran away?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, it was more a sprint actually." He put his head sideways and looked thoughtfully as if he rechecked his calculations. "Yes, his speed and the kind of movement were definitely running."

"So he ran away." David repeated slowly. "From the police."

"Yes."

Before David could voice his confirmed doubts about the man's identity, his cell phone rang. "Sorry," he apologized with a quick smile and opened the device. "Sinclair."

"It's Nikki."

"Yes?"

"We lifted some partial fingerprints from the car Charlie showed us. They're not perfect, but good enough for analysis." She sounded weary, not excited.

"And?" he prompted.

"No match."

David nodded. He had tried to contain his hope, to keep a levelheaded emotional response. But now he felt the hope he had never wanted ripped away from him. He was left with a familiar abyss of despair.

He swallowed hard.

"I checked the security feed," Nikki continued after a short pause. "They have some good pictures of the man. The story checks out. He entered campus, looked around and seemed to be in the parking lot by chance. He had really awesome moves. And -" she paused again.

"And?"

"And you won't like it, but he really does resemble Don. I sent you a picture."

A ding represented the incoming photo.

"When you look at it, remember the fingerprints don't match. I even asked for a second opinion. But they all agree: the fingerprints don't match Don's file. He's not a suspect, so we can't run the partials against the database. And with Paul around… " she trailed off.

"Thanks, Nikki." David ended the call and pulled up his photo menu.

Despite the warning, he still startled at the similarity. But Charlie was right. He wouldn't pick him out of a line either. It was only a look-alike. He would love to hear the odds that Don's look-alike saved Charlie, of all possible saviors. His last hope ebbed away. Now he had to tell the professor.

"Did Nikki find him?" Charlie didn't beat around the bush.

Squaring his shoulder David turned around. Why did it always have to be him that had to deal out devastating blows to the Eppes family?

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. The fingerprints don't match."

"What do you mean, they don't match?" Charlie asked. David would have laughed at Charlie's expression if it wouldn't have destroyed the tender connection he still had to his boss' brother.

"You remember where the man could have left fingerprints, right?" David began carefully.

"Yes, as he stood up from the ground, he used the car next to mine for leverage. I already told you." Charlie's hand described together with his mouth the events.

"Okay. We got some partial fingerprints from there." He took a deep breath. "But they don't match Don's."

Charlie stared at him as if he just told him that Santa Claus was real and a mathematician had proven it.

David exhaled slowly. "Nikki watched the surveillance tapes. She agrees with your assessment. The man really looked like Don." He took a step towards Charlie. Holding out his hand as if this could soften the blow, he delivered the final statement. "But it wasn't Don."

The professor shook his head in denial. "No. It was Don!"

David dropped his hand. His head followed and even his shoulders slumped forward. A moment ago, he had felt the same thing. The only difference had been that he had desperately tried to not allow any hope to blossom in his heart.

From the looks of things, Charlie had done the exact opposite. He had added fertilizer and started watering the thing.

"It was Don," the professor repeated. He bit on his trembling lip and looked at David full of reproach and anguish. "It was Don."

The agent shook his head. He could repeat the same sentence time and time again, it wouldn't matter to Charlie. That's the prerogative of being the little brother. He didn't need to justify his decision to anybody but his family.

"Charlie. Do you really think that it would be better if it had been Don?"

The man in question froze with his busy movements. He sent David a look that mixed smoldering heat and frozen disgust. "What?"

"Just something Agent Paul said."

"Agent Paul?" Charlie raised his eyebrows and his whole posture changed from anguish to anger. " _The_ Agent Paul?"

David gave him a small rueful smile. She hadn't made any friends with any of the Eppes family, quite a feat considering Alan's penchant for adopting strays.

"The one and only. She's back in the city for the trial."

"Since when?"

"I just saw her today. That was something on my list to warn you about. She will probably visit."

The professor nodded. "Of course." He took up a notepad and began writing.

David stared at his devastated friend. It hurt that they couldn't find Don's body, couldn't bring justice to his family. But Charlie's constant hope was slowly destroying him. "Maybe it is better we start to believe that Don is dead."

Charlie's hand stilled a moment, his back ramrod straight. "Why would this be better?"

David took a deep breath. "If Don is alive, that means he's been held for six months. Even if we found him, he wouldn't be the same man."

The professor took a new sheet and wrote something else.

"Charlie, are you listening?"

The man in question nodded. "Sure, it's the classic problem of Schrodinger's cat. I need to work." He pointed on the paper. "You may not believe that it was Don, but I am sure. I just need to rerun my analysis now that I have more data."

David sighed deeply. He tried one last time to keep Charlie out of his math and asked: "Schrodinger's cat?"

"Yes." Charlie looked up and directly at David. "Suppose you poison your cat and then put the cat into a box."

He tapped expectantly with his pen on the table top.

"Okay." David answered as the silence stretched.

"As long as you do not look inside the box, the cat could be alive or dead. You could say that the cat is both alive and dead at the same time because you can't determine the exact status without opening the box."

"Okay," David repeated. His face reflected the questions this analogy left him with.

"It's the same with Don. Don is missing and until he is found, we don't know if he is dead or alive. With Schrodinger, all you have to do is look inside the box to find out what happened to the cat. We don't know for sure what happened to Don. But -"

"- we get to choose how we proceed in our lives: as if Don is dead or as if he's alive." David interrupted the teacher and finished the thought.

Charlie nodded, his curls swaying with the movement. "You can choose to believe what you want, but I am going to believe Don is alive until the box is opened."

The agent sat down next to his boss' brother, his friend. "I understand. I already knew this without your nice little scientific analogy. But I meant something else."

Charlie stopped writing. "Yeah?"

"As long as I believe that Don is alive, every time I see somebody who looks like him, I feel elated, high with energy and full of hope." David tried to explain.

His friend put down his pencil and fingered the smooth surface of the table. He appeared to be listening.

"But every time a lead fails, every time it isn't Don, it destroys me." David put his hand on his chest. "It kills me from the inside. I feel guilty if I give an order in the field when I know that Don would have issued a little differently.

"I keep waiting for him to come back and retake his place on the team. And I thought about Agent Paul's words. I tried to image what would be different if I stopped believing that he is alive. What would be different?" David looked down.

"And the answer is that I would move on with my life. I would give the orders as I see them without considering what Don would do. I would spend my energy on the cases needing my attention. I'd save my emotions for my family instead of being played as a yo-yo with hope and despair.

"And if Don was suddenly standing in front me, I could welcome him with open arms because I'd be ready to help him overcome whatever he had to endure. I would be fit and not emotionally unavailable because I was burnt so often that I can't image that this time he is real.

"You know that time heals, but it also wears you down. If you see too many victims, you stop feeling their pain. You burn out from being able to empathize. This is a good thing because it helps me to do my job, but I don't want this happen to my friendship with Don." He shrugged and leaned back.

"Do you really think that Don would want this, either alive or dead, that you and your Dad and Robin work yourselves to the ground? Who is going to help him if we suddenly find him?" David paused. Wearily, he rubbed at his eyes.

Charlie kept his silence. David had often talked with him about Don, about hope and about the course of the investigation. It was one of the longest times he had listened. David could only hope that his words were worth it and that Charlie really listened and understood.

"Robin tells everybody that she is fine, but only an unhealthy amount of make-up makes her look like it. And sometimes even this is not enough. She is risking her reputation and her job for a hunt with no result.

"Alan is so worried about you that he forgets about himself. How long did you and Larry need to convince him to take his trip?"

Charlie looked down on his paper.

"I want to be welcoming if Don ever returns and not be too filled with fear of disappointment. I can't put that on him."

Charlie jumped up. "I saw Don. I can't- I can't even entertain the possibility that he is dead. I just need to find him." His voice gained strength as he spoke.

He paced around the table.

"I can't bear the thought that one day Don would stand in front of me and I'd be surprised to see him because I stopped believing in him!"

"Okay," David interrupted. "You don't need to." He stood up and made shushing motions. "Calm down. I didn't want to imply that you have to-"

"You may be able to see a difference between keeping a level head and keeping your emotions out, but I'm not like that. He is my brother. And I will find him, because he is alive. Every calculation pointed toward this conclusion. I would never dismiss math or cold scientific facts, but every clue we uncovered points toward a favorable ending for Don." Charlie grabbed his head. He spoke even faster. "You just have to believe me on this."

"Okay, I believe you. Charlie, I believed in every case your math turned something out. But please do consider what this means for your family. What does Don win if you put your life on hold? It wouldn't prevent a single hurt for him." David knew that he had to end the conversation. Charlie wouldn't be able to take more of it. For something he wasn't even sure himself, he had picked the wrong sounding board.

"I saw him." Charlie looked at him with big eyes, begging him to believe it.

"Okay." David needed to turn around the conversation. Now. What would Don do? Not moments after proposing to stop thinking about him, he did just this. David shook his head and thought hard. Math. Math was the strongest pull for Charlie, so math would have to be the new topic.

David glanced down. Charlie had scribbled a lot of numbers already on the paper. Hoping that he wouldn't regret it, and that it wasn't P vs. NP, David asked, "What is your new approach?" He pointed on the paper under his hand.

Like a balloon that deflated, Charlie's pained stance relaxed slightly. "It's using my meeting with Don. If he is in LA, it limits the places he could stay. If I take this meeting as a new base line, I may be able to predict his next movement… "

The agent nodded. "Good. I'll help where I can. I could get you the surveillance videos if you need them?"

Charlie stared at him with mistrust. "Didn't you just say that it is better to pretend that Don is dead?"

"No," David shook his head, "I said that I need to focus my energy on the people in front of me that I care about. And if this means to crunch numbers with you, so be it."

Only the sound of a clock ticking gave the background noise for the stare down between David and Charlie.

Charlie backed down first. "Yes, I'd like to see the tapes and everything else you can get me."

"Good." David drew his face in a small smile. "Just don't ask for a search warrant of Flynn Logistics for the hundredth time. No math from you will ever get through their lawyers."

Charlie shrugged but a little smile tugged at his lips. "It would only be the 28th time I'd ask."

David snorted. "Of course." He turned to the door, paused and focused on Charlie again. "Please think before you tell your father what you saw today." He pointed to the papers on the table. "If your math finds the man, we can check him again and either present Alan with Don or the man that saved his son. But don't give him hope we can't justify."

Charlie didn't answer.

"Just think about it, please." With that he closed the door behind him and left Charlie with his thoughts. And math. Maybe it would help. David could only hope.

* * *

 _TBC_


	6. Dead Or Alive II

_We're back for one scene in the past and find out what happened after the prologue._

 _Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **DEAD OR ALIVE II**

* * *

 **Thu, March 26 - 22:30 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Charlie was busy balancing his papers, laptop, and a book Larry wanted him to read as the doorbell rang.

It was a quiet evening; Amita was attending a meeting, something she looked forward to with as much delight as if she had to get a root canal without anesthetic. Charlie knew at least half of her fellow professors and could relate. But it didn't keep him from happily telling her what he had planned to do this fine evening.

"Coming," he called, putting everything down on the dinner table.

It rang again. This time more urgently.

"I'm coming," he repeated just as his Dad came out of the kitchen.

"Who is it?" Alan asked while he dried his hands on a towel.

Charlie raised his eyebrows and hastened to the door. "I don't know." As he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder to his father, "But it seems to be important."

He opened the door.

"Nikki," he greeted his unexpected guest. Confusion settled on his face. "Don isn't here."

Agent Betancourt looked nervously over Charlie's shoulder. "Is your father here?"

"Dad?" Charlie asked perplexed. "Why do you need my Dad?"

A look, too quick to be identified, crossed Nikki's face until she settled her features back into 'official business' face, as Charlie had nicknamed the expression.

"Can I come in?"

He nodded and opened the doorway for her, still thinking about her expression until it suddenly dawned on him. Guilt. She looked guilty.

"Nikki, what can I do for you?" Alan sounded as surprised as he felt. But Charlie was busy collecting clues. At the door, only Nikki had stood, but down the street there were two other FBI cars. They still had on their lights, almost as if they expected to start shortly.

"I'm sorry. I need you to come with me. There has been an incident." Nikki said just as Charlie managed to close the door.

The conclusion of every clue was in front of his eyes; he just needed to grab it.

"What?" Now Alan's open and inventing position changed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Somebody attacked Don and Robin. Robin was shot, and I need you to come with me to the FBI office because at the moment nobody knows who the intended target was."

Charlie felt relief and instant tenses mixed together. The adrenaline sharpened his senses. Now his math was needed.

"How is Robin?" Alan asked. He looked through the kitchen door, verifying that he could leave the house and find it still standing when he came back.

"Robin is at ULCA. She is in surgery." Nikki played with the keys in her hand.

"What does Don need from me? Do I need more than my laptop?" Charlie asked. He grabbed his jacket; his hands hovered over the laptop.

Nikki cleared her throat, "Probably only your laptop. If you need more, we can get it later."

Charlie sprinted to the door, but his father didn't follow him.

"Nikki, where is my son? Where is Don?" Alan sounded weary. But Charlie was more shocked about the expression of fear giving his father an appearance much older. "Tell me: where?"

Agent Betancourt swallowed hard. Suddenly Charlie knew that the solution to her behavior wasn't that Don was on a warpath.

"We don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Charlie surprised himself with the venom in his voice, but he wasn't backing down.

Nikki opened her arms wide and let them fall down to her side. "We don't know. He was taken in the same attack."

Charlie hated the ability of the human mind to be swallowed up in a dark void that left every impression as nothing but a footprint in cotton wool. It had happened as his mom had told him she couldn't get another round of chemo and that she would die; as his calculation had led his brother directly into the shooting line of bank robbers; and now Nikki finished the row.

He couldn't remember the ride to office. But suddenly he was in an unnaturally bright office. He knew the office well, but the lights had never seemed so bright and glaring.

There were more agents milling around than usually warranted at nine o'clock on a normal work day, and it was after nine in the evening. Charlie knew the time exactly because he had checked the clock again and again.

It turned into a long night with weary agents as no sign of Don could be found. ADIC Wright had issued a warning to every federal agent in the city. By midnight, almost every agent had checked in.

The more agents who checked in, the more accurately Charlie could calculate the probable motive while Amita was busy trying to calculate possible escape routes based on the road blocks that hadn't found anything. Somewhere, the dark van had vanished.

At one point, Alan had decided to go to the hospital. ADIC Wright had agreed and provided an escort. At the hospital were more than enough agents, including Special Agent Liz Warner.

It was the early hours in the morning as the radio buzzed with new information. Charlie was busy trying a new filter approach by drawing a map that eliminated all the cleared places agents had searched, driven by, or were by the time they had been called. He needed more information for a useful map.

David paled as Charlie caught his eye in the exact moment. "What happened?" He asked.

"Charlie," David began, broke off, and took a deep breath. "Your calculation based on the still missing agents..." he trailed off.

"It is finished. I am trying a new approach-"

David interrupted him: "Martin Ward, DEA. What does your social network diagram say for him? What does Don has to do with him?"

Charlie blinked. David had not answered his question. After a moment, he turned and checked his calculation.

He blinked again. Confused, he turned around and stared at David. "Not Don. His involvement would indicate a higher probability that Robin was the target.

David nodded. "And?"

Charlie consulted his board again. Then he rummaged through the pile of files to find the correct reference. "The only thing connecting DEA agent Martin Ward and his partner, Richard Miller, both of whom still haven't checked in, to Robin Brooks is a case about Matthew Flynn." He gave David the file.

David scrolled through it. "He died in jail awaiting arrangement." Suddenly his whole posture changed. "He is the son of Joe Flynn, owner of Flynn Logistics."

"Is this important?" Amita asked. Charlie startled and turned around to face her. He had forgotten that she was working in the same room, so focused was he on his own task.

"I don't like the sound of 'logistics' for my route analyses. Logistics firms are the best of the best for routing goods through a city. And they are experienced enough to bypass obstacles like traffic jams or police road blocks," she finished.

"Yeah, this is important. And it's bad." David turned and marched from the room.

Charlie looked at Amita. No words were necessary. Together, they followed David. If he wouldn't answer them, they would listen to what everybody else got to hear.

A few minutes later, Charlie agreed. It was bad.

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 16:30 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Charlie accepted the call without looking for a caller id. "Yes?"

"Charlie, this is Dad." Charlie closed his eyes. His father's voice had that mixture of worried, annoyed, and anxious that could only mean one thing: he knew.

"Yes?"

"When did you plan to tell me you were attacked in a parking lot?"

Charlie sighed through his nose. "Probably after you returned from your trip."

"I'm coming home tonight." Alan said. "I am already packing."

"Dad, no!" Charlie started to pace. "I am fine, nobody was hurt. Everything is alright. You don't need to come home."

"My son was attacked in a parking lot." Alan's voice sounded hurt and full of fear. "Do you know the first thing I thought when Larry called me?"

So, he had Larry to thank for this unexpected call. "I am fine," Charlie repeated. He rubbed his eyes. After the hour he had spent together with Amita, who had dropped everything, including her time with the supercomputer, to run to him, he really didn't want to repeat the emotionally draining conversation with his father.

"I thought I'd lose both of my sons in a parking lot," Alan continued as if he hadn't heard Charlie. He probably hadn't.

"I feared that I would be the last of our family, and that I had to -," he broke off.

"Dad," Charlie said with as much calm and love as he could, "I am alive." _And so was Don_ was on the tip of his tongue. But he bit down hard to keep the words inside. He looked to the door where David had disappeared. He had his own opinion, but maybe David was right; telling his father without having proof would be a bad idea.

"So you keep telling me." Alan huffed. "But I need to see for myself. To feel your heartbeat with my own hands. I can't lose you like Don." Charlie heard a sob on the other end of the line. "Don was just out eating dinner with Robin. And then they grabbed him despite Robin being the intended target. Those men shot Robin. And Don did everything he could to defend himself and his girlfriend, and it still wasn't enough."

Charlie nodded along. He had seen the grainy image of the surveillance tape and the crime scene photos of the parking lot. He had even calculated speed and trajectory of the shots. Paired with the ballistic report about the different guns that had been used, it painted a gruesome picture of desperation and strength. He knew exactly what had gone down in that parking lot.

Charlie's resolve wavered. His father had a right to know that Don was alive and that he had seen him. But what if they couldn't find him?

"Dad, you are listening to my voice right now. There is not a scratch on me-"

"Don almost died because of a knife," Alan interrupted him. "And now he is gone-"

"Missing." Now it was Charlie's turn to interrupt his father. "Don is only missing, and he is alive." There, he had said it.

The silence on the other end of the line began to stretch. "Son, I know that you and Robin believe this with all your heart, but-"

"I am positive, I -" Charlie stopped himself, looking down in shame.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he murmured. "I don't want to argue with you, and I don't want you to come home just because a student didn't meet the required points for a better grade. We worked so hard to make this journey possible. I even did everything we agreed upon-"

"Charlie. I know." Alan interrupted him. "Larry told me. And he kept his own word to inform me about anything even remotely relevant."

"There you go." Charlie said relieved. "We kept our end of the bargain. Now you need to keep your end."

Alan humphed at the other end. But the sound of rummaging had stopped.

"I don't like this arrangement."

"I know, Dad." Charlie said, and smiled. He was sure now his dad would stay. "But you need the rest as much as we do."

"You need rest from me?" His father asked with incredulity. "Seriously?"

Charlie had to laugh and then stammer his way out of the hole he had accidentally dug.

But he wouldn't upset his father unnecessarily. He would bring Don back to him, not in words but in body. Then he could tell him. He just had to find the man who saved him.

He was sure it had been Don.

* * *

 _TBC_


	7. Dead Or Alive III

_It's time to meet the last player in this game._

 _Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **DEAD OR ALIVE III**

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 20:50 - Old Warehouse, Los Angeles**

Zoe was dead on her feet. She had covered the whole shift for Nancy, who had to run home to her little boy for an emergency. She liked the little trooper, but no amount of tip money could really make up for how much she ached.

It didn't help that she had spent the rest of the day auditioning for various roles.

Her dream of being a movie star became murkier every day.

"John? Are you home?" she called out softly. The warehouse was scheduled to be torn down in the near future, but like a lot of things, 'near future' was a loose term. She hoped it would remain standing for a long time.

After coming into their kitchen, she set down her bag. "John?" she called out again.

She heard a sound and turned her head to the doorway just as John dragged himself in with a strange aura around him.

Zoe frowned. "Hey."

He barely acknowledged her, his eyes scanning his environment. He seemed more concerned with what was behind her than her.

"What's going on?"

"Anybody followed you?" he asked.

Zoe sighed. She trotted over to the table and sat down. After she pulled off her shoes, she swung her legs up to the table. Before she could deal with the renewal of John's paranoia, she needed to do something about her feet.

"Ahh," she sighed in relief. With a small smile, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

John remained rooted in the same space. She could feel annoyance radiating off him.

Taking pity on him, she answered, "No, nobody followed me." She held up her thumb.

"Nobody asked after you." Her index finger joined the counting.

"Nobody asked after anybody similar to you or if I know anybody with a description or anything else." Finger number three followed.

"I saw nobody in front of our house, Boyd's diner, or anywhere else." Her ring finger joined the formation.

"And last, there were no more police than normal." Her hand was spread wide. She opened her eyes and fixed him with a glare.

He looked his special mix of guilty and innocent, as if he couldn't figure out if the current situation was his fault or not. She assumed it was the consequence of his porous memory.

At last he nodded and turned to their oven. They ran it with a generator or illegally obtained power. She still hadn't asked where John had gotten the electricity from.

His whole posture was tenser than she had seen in a long time. As long as she had known him, he had feared the police to the point she worried.

It must have been an especially bad day for him, too. Despite the tenseness, he was clumsy and needed three tries to open the oven door. It was his tell that he was exhausted and had a headache the size of a mountain. The only thing keeping him upright now was probably adrenaline from whatever had startled him so badly.

"What did you find out about your math? Did somebody recognize it?" It didn't take a genius to know that it had to be the math startling him so badly.

John kept his back to her. "No, nothing came out of it." He shrugged and then turned around.

"One of the guys became a father and gave out pizza." He held out the box and offered her the last two slices. She appreciated his attempt to keep it warm. She wasn't in the mood for cold pizza, but would eat it regardless.

She narrowed her eyes. Something did happen, she was sure of it. "You know, I heard the most interesting thing in an audition today. CalSci almost went into lock-down mode because somebody attacked a professor in the parking lot. Apparently, his savior disappeared, but the attacker was arrested. This doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?"

John put down the box and crossed his arms. "You should eat it as long as it's warm," he advised.

"It was you, wasn't it? You saved the professor. And now you have this irrational fear that the police will come looking for you."

"It's not irrational, okay?" He turned and went to the doorway to his part of the room. "I have my reasons."

"John," Zoe called after him. "You helped me. You saved me when I was outnumbered three to one, and everybody would have told me that it was my own fault, for not being responsible, for letting my guard down, and for leaving home to pursue a career in acting in a city as unfriendly as LA."

John paused and looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, and you repaid me by staying."

"I asked nicely."

He raised his eyebrow at her answer.

"Fine, I begged and threatened, but it worked out all right, didn't it?" She put down her feet and leaned forward. "Come on, you want to find out about your past, don't you? So let me help. What happened?"

The aroma of pizza pulled her gaze back to the table, and the emptiness of her stomach made itself known with a loud grumble. She grabbed a slice and took a big bite.

"Thanks, by the way." It was common knowledge not to talk with one's mouth full, but this delicious pizza needed special thanks. "So, what happened?"

John shrugged again but came back into their kitchen. He spread his hands, sighing he leaned against the fridge.

"I was just looking for the math department as I came across an altercation in the parking lot."

Zoe nodded and put her feet back on the table. She used two of her fingers to make a rolling motion to signal John to keep going.

He raised his eyebrows at her behavior but complied. "So I went over to see if I could help. There was this young man threatening one of the teachers with a big kitchen knife." John showed with his hands the approximately length of the knife.

Zoe swallowed hard as she suddenly understood just how dangerous the situation had been. She only had heard the excited chatter, but never the fearful and dangerous first person account.

John let his arms fall back to his side. He looked confused with deep lines in his face. "Then suddenly I have this guy on the ground in a grip that I didn't even know I knew." He looked at Zoe with wide eyes. "I disarmed this guy in seconds flat, and I have no idea how I did it."

Zoe needed to remind herself to keep chewing. "So you are some kind of material arts expert?"

John's face morphed from helplessness to annoyance. He disliked her game of guessing what he could have been. Zoe believed that he would really love to take back the moment he let himself be talked into giving up that his memory was full of holes. He had impressions of memories, but he couldn't use his memories to answer questions.

He shook his head. "Anyway, then the cops arrived, and I got away as fast as possible."

Zoe jumped up. "What?! Why would you do that?" She walked around the table and raised herself to full height in front of him. "You didn't do anything wrong, and the professor would have helped you just out of thankfulness. It was a perfect opportunity. Maybe he knew where the math came from, maybe he could tell you your past, maybe he even knew you..."

A dark look flashed across his face, and he pressed his lips together.

She had hit the jackpot with her last suggestion. "What? He did recognize you, didn't he?"

His only answer was an angry glare, his lips thinning as he crossed his arms. John was mostly passive and tried to blend in with his environment. But sometimes he could get impressively angry, almost furious. This was one of those times.

Zoe knew that she had to back down.

"Maybe," he said before she could think of an apology for overstepping a line she hadn't even seen. "And maybe, I should just be thankful for what I have. I have a roof over my head, I have a job, and I get by. What if knowing who I am will destroy all this? Do you really think that I am better off in prison? Maybe I am better off not knowing."

"Why does it always have to be the worst-case scenario? Why can't you just hope to find your family?" Zoe had her own temper.

"Maybe my family doesn't want me. Maybe I am the black sheep of the family that everybody is happy to be done with!" His fingers bored into his upper arms so tightly his fingertips turned white.

"Why should they?" Zoe challenged back before she remembered that she wanted to do better.

Both let out a sigh. It was neither the time nor the place to have an argument like that. They were careful not to raise their voices too loud, but still, in the dark of the night they could be heard.

John was the first to back down. He released his fight stance and turned away, but Zoe wasn't quite ready to end the discussion.

"You said yourself that nobody knew you and that your fingerprints weren't in the system and -"

"Zoe," John said and his voice sounded dark and tired. "I almost died from a drug overdose. If the police hadn't raided the drug house just at the right time, and the detectives hadn't called for an ambulance, I would be dead."

"Maybe it was a one-time -"

"There was enough cocaine in my system to indicate long-term use. They told me -" He broke off, rubbing at his eyes. "They told me that I'd have had to be shooting up for three days straight. There is no way that this was a one-time incident." He looked down. "Besides, they had a witness, or better inside source, that told them I had supplied everybody in that house with the drugs. They were sure that I was their main drug source. They just couldn't add a name and file to my face and fingerprints. I don't think I did this but they were so sure …" he trailed off, lost.

Zoe lowered her head and relaxed her stance. "So you're just giving up and believe them?"

"Maybe it is for the best to leave the past behind. I have enough trouble living day by day. Maybe this brain damage is a blessing in disguise."

Zoe dragged herself back to the table and collapsed onto the chair. "You really just want to let it go? Your past? Your questions? The accusations? Your memories?" She couldn't prevent her dislike of this possibility from bleeding into her voice.

"I've thought about this. The risk just isn't worth the reward. What does my memory help me? I have lived just fine the last six months without it." John returned to the table and sat down. His arms had to support his head.

"Are you going to eat that?" He indicated the last slice of pizza. "Or should I?"

She grabbed the slice in a knee-jerk reaction. "No." She put it into her mouth. "I'll eat it."

John massaged his forehead with his fingers and hid his eyes behind his palm. "Zoe," he started, "you're great and all, but this is my life and I can't take the risk." He looked up and regarded her steadily. Pain and fatigue marked his features. He worked too much, slept too little, and ate not enough. He either had to buy good food with money he didn't have, or buy it cheap in shops where there were police officers, noisy cashiers, or both.

"It's your life." She voiced her agreement to his silent plea to drop it. "But do you really want to keep living like this forever? In a dump without running water, always under threat of losing it if the excavators arrive? Always running if a police officer so much as looks in your direction?"

She spread her arms. "I, for one, plan to become a big movie star. Then I will live in Beverly Hills in a big villa and have a party every other night!"

John snorted. He never said anything against her plan, but he also never supported her ideas. She wasn't allowed to run a script by him or ask for his advice how to play a role.

"And I will always remember what you did for me in my time of need. So, don't worry, I will offer you a room or a pool house to stay in and enough food to get some fat on your ribs."

John felt his chest. He wasn't thin, more the opposite. The hard work got him muscles on top of his muscle. But poor nutrition wouldn't help him keep those muscles. He was starving, slowly but surely.

"So, after my big break, I will help you out. But what about your nightmares? And the police? If you always run, you will never find peace with or without your memories. It's a common truth: life is always going to catch up to you no matter how hard you run."

John bit his lip. "Where did you read this?"

Zoe laughed. "It's some dialogue from a recent audition. But the words, they are true." She paused. "So, does this mean you will try again?"

John shook his head and looked down. "He knew me. And..." he looked up with sorrowful eyes, "I think I know him, too. The look he gave me … I can't go back."

Zoe shook her head. "If you know him, you need to return. It's your chance!" Giving up wasn't really in her blood. Hence her continued quest for success as an actress.

John dragged himself up like an old man. He had never seemed more tired. "You don't know what's in my head. You don't know the violence, the fear, and the anger that rule my dreams. Losing my memory is my chance, my chance for a new life, and probably my punishment for the old one."

He held up his hand, preventing Zoe from saying anything else. "I am done."

She watched him as he staggered off to his bed.

* * *

 **Tue, Sept 22 - 20:40 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

Joe Flynn was still in his office and at his desk. The smooth and expensive suit couldn't hide his age. It fit perfectly, of course, or his tailor wouldn't be working anymore. It was more the slumped shoulders, the gray hair, and saddened eyes. He looked sloppy.

Not even six months ago, he was full of life. He couldn't wait for Matthew, his son, to finish his college degree. He always wanted to present him with a successful company; he had even started preparations to end the illegal dealings and smuggling that happened in his containers.

Since his son's death, though, he kept an ever tighter grip on his business. The men working for him had been reduced to a handful of people he trusted. He did not tolerate opposing opinions.

The ringing of his business cell phone interrupted his musing. He unlocked his desk and grabbed the annoying device.

"Yes?" It probably wouldn't matter if he used his name when answering, but he'd started his business in the days of LAPD wire taps, and the practice of being careful was deeply ingrained.

"Professor Eppes left a message for Robin Brooks," a breathless voice said.

Flynn recognized Oliver Guire's voice, his conveyor of the greatest emotional pain. He could have listened to Guire's descriptions of Robin Brooks and how she fared for hours.

Maybe this call was just what the doctor ordered.

"And?"

After a short pause, Guire whispered, "He said he saw his brother."

Joe Flynn froze. A vice gripped his heart and lungs and squeezed until he felt dizzy through lack of oxygen. His mind screamed at him that it was impossible, that Professor Eppes was easily misguided, but a larger part of him feared it.

His revenge, the memory of his son, everything threatened to tumble down in one sentence.

The ice in his stomach melted as hot anger burned through him.

He wasn't able to sit anymore.

"Where and when did he see him?"

"This afternoon. On campus."

Flynn nodded. "What's the status?"

"Scuttlebutt says that the FBI thinks that Professor Eppes is mistaken." But this didn't matter; they should have never been allowed, even for one second, to believe Don Eppes was alive. They didn't deserve this hope.

"But Ms. Brooks seemed to believe it." Of course, she did. Hope was a strong emotion. Like revenge.

He looked at his watch, a diamond Rolex. The conversation had gone on long enough. "Call me if something changes." It was a dismal.

"Sir," Oliver Guire begged, "my family. Are they safe?"

The fear should assure him that he hadn't lost his touch, but today it was only an unwanted distraction. "You did what you were supposed to do. Nobody is going to learn about your secrets." Snapping the phone shut, he pressed his balled fist against his lips. Then he deleted the call entry.

He had told those idiots to kill Don Eppes and bury him outside the city where he would never be found.

Danny Holland and Stu Hall, he had enjoyed the sound of their names, because they represented the cornerstone of his revenge. If they had failed, nothing would save them.

No, Eppes was dead. It had to be a look-alike. But the doubt had already infected him and threatened to contaminate his success.

If Eppes really had been found, the FBI would have already arrested Flynn, but still.

He scattered the papers on his desk. It was time for something different. Using his burner phone, he punched in a number he knew by heart.

He still had time.

Time for revenge.

Robin Brooks wouldn't get her hope.

* * *

 _TBC_


	8. Yesterday Future, Today Past

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **YESTERDAY FUTURE, TODAY PAST**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 06:00 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

"Charlie?" a soft feminine voice asked.

He turned and snuggled a little deeper in the afghan that covered him. Covered him? With a start, Charlie sat upright. "What?"

On the coffee table, Robin sat back and smiled, a little unsure. "Good morning?"

Still confused, Charlie looked around. He was on the couch in his house. Rubbing his forehead, Charlie tried to make sense of the situation.

"I'm sorry. I got your message very late, and then as I tried to call the house or your cell, nobody answered," Robin explained.

The professor nodded mechanically. The last cobwebs of sleep still penetrated his mind. He had been working in the garage on the new data set.

"So, I called Amita, and she explained everything to me." Robin gave a little shrug with her shoulder. "I still wanted to talk to you."

She stood up. She wasn't wearing her usual business clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt made her appear far more relaxed. This wasn't even an outfit she'd wear if she came over with Don to enjoy an evening with the family.

"It's now 6 o'clock in the morning."

"What are you wearing?" Belatedly, he realized this wasn't the right way to start a conversation. He shook his head. "How did you get in?" His second try only managed to make the situation worse.

But Robin knew him very well because she just smiled. One of her rare smiles, these days.

"I came in with the key you gave me." She held up her bunch of keys rattling them. "As to my style of clothes..." She looked away and bit her lip.

Charlie entangled himself from the blanket and stood up. "Do you want a cup of coffee?" He asked and lurched to the kitchen door.

"No, thank you. I can't drink anything." She started to follow him. "But I really want to know what you are planning to do about your meeting with Don."

He froze with a cup in his hand for a moment. Her words woke him up far better than the caffeine could have done it. He put down the cup. "I thought you had talked to Amita?" He asked her but kept his face towards the cupboards. Far slower than necessary, he took a bowl and the cornflakes out of the cupboard.

"I did." He could hear the smile in her voice. "But you and I know that we don't agree on the best approach. More often than not, you and I, we are the only ones believing that Don is still alive."

Now Charlie turned around. "And you believe that I saw him despite the fact that none of the fingerprints match?"

Robin nodded. "You have a great mathematical mind, but you're also a great man. And a great brother. You know him. If you see somebody who looks like him and your brother radar is tingling, then that's it."

Charlie hadn't realized how important it was that somebody believed him. He thought that he could handle the loneliness to know and understand something that everybody else failed to see.

"Amita really told you about the fingerprints?" He needed to be sure that Robin understood exactly where she placed her bets.

"Yes. But look at it like this: we are dealing with a man who arranged for two hits at the exact same time. He hired people to switch plans on the fly and executed them so well that we can't find Don. This is the man we are up against." She raised her eyebrows. "I surely believe that he has the motivation and ability to either change fingerprints, or our system, or find a way to fool our system."

The professor awakened more and more. He pointed a finger at Robin. "Excellent idea, counselor. I haven't even thought about the possibility that Don's fingerprints were manipulated in the system. Maybe David can get me a copy of the algorithm that makes the comparison..."

Robin cleared her throat. "You should maybe wait a day or two until you approach David with this."

Charlie raised his eyebrows in question. "Why?"

"Because Agent Paul is sniffing around again, and she will take offense in your claim."

The professor pressed his lips together. After a few moments, he finally said, "I don't care if she is offended."

Robin nodded. "I know that you don't care, but she can make David's life miserable." She pulled out a chair and sat down. Her right hand never left her stomach.

Charlie waved her off. "I'm not sure if I care about David's trouble just now. Do you know what he said?"

"That you should consider going on with your life as if Don was dead?" Robin answered with a tired smile on her face.

The shock poured through him like ice in his veins. "How did you...," he stammered.

She sighed and rested her head on her left hand. "Amita told me. Is it the first time somebody suggested this to you?"

Charlie looked at her. Maybe for the first time, he really looked at her. Her hair was simply bound in a messy pony tail. Her shoulders sagged as if they struggled under the weight of the world. She appeared thin. Her face was drawn and tight; her skin unnaturally pale. He asked himself if he looked like this as well.

It took his mind a moment to process what she had said. He grabbed his bowl and juice and sat down opposite Robin.

"Apart from my Dad who suggested this subtly for at least a month? Yes, it is the first time."

"I've heard it since I was back on the job, and it hasn't gotten quieter yet." Her eyes glazed over, and she appeared to be lost in memories.

"Robin?" He regretted not asking more about how she was doing. They were often together, discussing the case and making plans. But he never really asked how she was. He had seen her pain, but he was sure that if he just found Don, he could ease it. For this aim, he had to concentrate on his math. Was that something bad?

She shook her head. Squaring her shoulder, she turned to face him completely. "Charlie, I need to ask you a question. And I need an honest answer."

Charlie jerked a little back. "I am always honest." But it didn't come out as a joke, and her serious expression didn't lessen.

"You came to the conclusion that Don is still alive based on Flynn's behavior, right?"

"Yes, and by including every other factor: Joe Flynn has only a few people working for him. He has never used violence to achieve his goals. To orchestrate the attack in March, he had to hire some muscle. According to David, it isn't easy to hire professional killers on short notice who are willing to kill several federal agents and a prosecutor." He shot Robin a guilty glance, but she didn't seem to mind the reminder.

"Professionals willing to do this are high in demand and expensive. David brought me all data he could think of: information about Flynn's bank accounts, about his business; travel data from all persons coming in or leaving LA, a list of possible mercenaries. Nothing indicates a professional hit. Non-professional killers leave evidence behind and usually are stupid enough to brag about what they did. Based on my analysis, the conclusion with the highest probability of why we can't find a body is that there is no body to be found."

"So you calculated the probability that Don is still alive based on found evidence, past history, and expense of the crime."

"Yes." Charlie put down his spoon. "What is -"

Robin held up her hand and stopped his question. "I can get you the necessary information how fingerprints are stored and how they are compared, but...," she made a pause and crinkled the hem of her sleeve with disheveled fingernails. Then she looked up to Charlie. "Did you allow in your calculation the possibility that Don is dead, and Flynn only had to hire people to hide his body or to take his body out of the city?"

Charlie jumped up. "What is it with you people? Did David or my Dad send you? I thought you were on my side-"

"Charlie," Robin rose to her full height. "I need to know." Tears entered her eyes and flew down her faces. "I trust your brotherly love, but I also need some objectivity through your math. I will tear this city down," she tapped the table top with her finger, "until every stone is turned. I will get you anything you need, if you tell me that not only you, but also your math objectively points to Don being alive. "

Suddenly, she doubled over, gasping in pain.

Charlie's anger vanished as fast as it had come. Unsure, he stood next to the table. As Robin straightened, he released a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding.

He waited until she looked at him. Pain and fatigue and despair and a lot of other emotions Charlie had no names for were written on her face, etched on her features.

"I would never manipulate a calculation. You can ask Amita, she checked and double-checked my work. She can vouch that I followed where the numbers lead me, but I didn't manipulate anything."

She nodded and another bunch of tears streamed down her face. Belatedly, Charlie registered that Robin wasn't even wearing make-up, because nothing smeared.

"Okay." She said and nodded as if she had to confirm something to herself.

Charlie narrowed his eyes. No make-up, sloppy clothes, 6 o'clock in the morning, pain and fatigue. He could easily compile a list with hints. But connecting the hints to a conclusion was Don's special expertise. He was the agent; he was supposed to connect the dots to find the spider in the web. Charlie could draw him all possible webs, but Don had to find the right one.

So what would Don do? He would probably ask questions. Or state facts. People liked to correct facts if they perceived them as wrong.

"I-" Charlie started.

"Surgery. I am on my way to surgery." Robin said before he could ask anything. "You looked like you were wondering."

Charlie tilted his head sideways. "Surgery. I..."

"Yes, that's the reason why I can't drink or eat anything."

"What for? And why haven't you told me? I thought we were-" Charlie searched for words. In numbers, he could express himself.

"You can't help, but I hoped maybe we," she looked down and then back up to him, "you could find him, before it was time for the surgery."

"I don't understand."

"It's the scar tissue. I ..." She searched for words. Closing her eyes, she settled on, "It needs to be removed."

"Are you in pain? Well, obviously. I could run some calculations about other options..." Charlie knew he sounded irresponsible, but maybe Robin only pushed the surgery so Don could be with her.

"I'm sorry. I can't postpone it anymore. According to my mom, I got really lucky to get an appointment at all."

Charlie nodded like a robot. Another thing without Don. "Do you want me to drive you or-" Charlie floundered to say the appropriate thing. "Or maybe I can wait for you-"

"Charlie," Robin circled the table until she stood directly in front of him. "What I need is a time machine to erase that evening. I need Don to not be gone and replaced by an empty hole. I need to have never dumped him." She put her hands on Charlie's cheeks. "I need him. And I need you to do what you do best. Apply math to a problem. This is your gift. Your ability to see math where I only find emotion."

Robin closed her eyes and leaned closer until their foreheads almost touched. "You can't help me by staring holes in a wall in a hospital, but if I know that despite me being down for the count, somebody believes in Don with all his heart, it gives me hope."

"I will." He detached from her embrace. "I'll start by locating the man, Don, from the parking lot. If I have him, he can give David new fingerprints, and I can analyze where the wrong comparison comes from. After I find him, I can also ask for a DNA test. I will pay for it. This will prove beyond a doubt and beyond a changed system that he is my brother." The numbers already started to flow through his mind. He could do this.

"Thank you."

As Charlie watched Robin enter the car driven by her protection detail, he vowed to do everything in his power to bring Don home. Not only home to him but also to his father and to Robin.

He would find him.

David may have dampened his hope, but Robin had squared it with purpose.

Charlie could deal with a simple goal. Find Don, prove that it is Don, help him to get better, have his brother back.

Now that he actually had a new starting point, it should be workable.

Charlie didn't know yet that locating him would be still the easy part.

* * *

 **Fri, Mar 27 - 03:20 - Bar, Los Angeles**

"His cell phone came back online twenty minutes ago." Liz reported in clipped tone. "Matt Li traced it to this place."

"The bar?" David asked as he rechecked his gun. Just a few hours ago, the LAPD had found the body of Special Agent Martin Ward. He could still feel the shock waves through the office. The mix of anger and anguish was a powerful emotional drive that powered even the most tired agents after a long night.

Charlie's math immediately highlighted a connection that made locating DEA Special Agent Richard Miller even more important.

After ADIC Wright had given the alert, it took roughly an hour for every agent to call in his position and status. It took the rest of the night to track down the missing agents.

They had found the body of SA Martin Ward through the GPS signal of his cell. Afterwards, the last missing agent had been his partner, SA Richard Miller. Nobody said it, but everybody thought that they would only find his body. The longer his cell phone and GPS chip remained stubbornly off, they more likely it became.

Then his cell phone was turned on again. David had jumped into action for the off-chance that he could be saved.

"Maybe he was just having a drink?" Nikki proposed as she pulled on her vest.

David looked around. It was not a bad neighborhood, but a strange location for Richard Miller. At least it wasn't an abandoned warehouse where the LAPD had found his partner. But it was nowhere near his home, office, family, or usual routes.

"Colby checked the house again," Liz reported as she shut down her cell. "This time, the wife told him that he hasn't been home after they had an argument."

Nikki and David shared a look. "Bad time for a spousal fight."

"Okay. Let's do this, people." David felt the hard responsibility on his shoulders like a backpack full of stones. "If he isn't in the bar, we have to check every house in the area. So let's-"

Nikki tapped him on the chest and pointed to the street next to the bar. "There!"

Everybody looked in the indicated direction. Relief and shock ruled the gathered agents.

David recovered first. He pivoted on his heel and with a fast check on the street sprinted across it. He heard the hard thumps of the boots of Nikki and the rest of the agents following him.

"Agent Miller!"

The man in question stopped. Surprise was etched on his face. Red surrounded his eyes, and he had a bruise on his right jaw line.

"What...?" He stammered. "What are you doing here? How do you already-" Then he shook himself.

David grabbed him and stood directly in front of him. "Agent Miller, are you okay?"

The chunky man with reclining hair line barked out an ugly laugh. "Do I look okay to you?" He sneered. Despite the cool evening air he was only dressed in a simple shirt.

"We need to get him out of sight," Nikki said to his left. She had her gun out of her holster and scanned the environment on high alert.

"Get a car!" David ordered just as a car stopped behind him.

Keeping his eyes half on SA Miller and Nikki, he adjusted his level of reaction to Nikki's level. She relaxed slightly.

"Your car is here."

David managed a small smile as he recognized Liz's voice behind him. "Let's go." He grabbed SA Miller and disappeared with him inside the back of the car.

"What's going on?" SA Miller asked as Liz took the third corner with a little too much speed and force.

"I didn't think that my marriage trouble would get me an FBI escort."

David noted the dirt on the man's hand. His fingernails were dirty was if he was a gardener and not a DEA agent. They trembled.

"Where is your phone?" David demanded and held his hand open.

His charge sighed and rubbed his forehead. David could smell alcohol on his breath.

"I know I am not supposed to turn it off but-" he looked at David with despair on his face, "my wife and I ... we argued and ... I just wanted a little quiet..."

"Your cell phone, please," David repeated but dropped the ordering tone. He would probably destroying the man's day before the first rays of light crept over the city. Miller had made an error of judgment, not broken the law.

"What is going on?" SA Miller asked again while he fished the cell phone out of his pocket.

David bagged it. He was stalling. He knew it, and so did SA Miller.

"Is my wife okay? Did something happen to her?" Panic filled his voice.

"Your wife is fine. Have you been in the bar the whole night?"

He stared at David. "My wife is really fine?"

"Agent Granger just talked to her half an hour ago." Liz interrupted from the front seat. David caught her eyes through the rear-view mirror. Nodding, she signaled her understanding. "Joey is following us. Nobody else." She set the blinker.

They would have to ask Agent Miller some hard questions. David wished he could tell him the bad news privately, but it would be better in the long run to do it in the FBI office.

"We think you may be a target for a killer," David offered at last. He avoided looking him in the eyes, instead he focused on Liz.

Understanding the shift, Liz obediently gave another status report: "ETA is ten minutes."

Ten minutes to think about what to say. Ten minutes to be thankful that they hadn't found a body. Agent Miller would get in trouble for his actions tonight. But he was alive. It should count for something.

David wished he could say the same thing about Don. But his friend and boss, his cell phone and the van remained stubbornly vanished.

He glanced at the man sitting beside him. Miller was pale and shrunken. He didn't ask another question but kept his red-rimmed eyes behind his trembling hands.

It was as if he already knew.

* * *

 _TBC_


	9. Yesterday Future, Today Past II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **YESTERDAY FUTURE, TODAY PAST II**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 09:45 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

"Sinclair." David took the call and simultaneously checked his emails.

"This is Agent Richard Miller, DEA," the caller introduced himself. "I just want to ask: is it true?"

David blinked. Then a frown settled on his features. "Who is this?"

The man sighed. "Richard Miller, I am-" he stopped and rephrased his sentence, "I was the partner of Special Agent Martin Ward. I heard you found your agent, and I wanted -"

Recognition set in. "No," David interrupted, "it's not true. We haven't found Agent Eppes."

Silence.

"Are you still there?" David asked as the silence stretched on.

"Yeah ... I just hoped that with your agent, we could get justice for Martin." His voice sounded weary and sad.

"Agent Miller," David began, "I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I would have called if there had been any development."

The news had traveled fast. It highlighted how badly the local law enforcement community had taken the murder of Martin Ward and disappearance of Don Eppes. It was too bad that the result hadn't spread as fast.

"There was a report about a look-alike. But it wasn't Don Eppes." A day later, and the news still dragged him down.

"Oh..." Agent Miller acknowledged the apology. "You at least have the trial where the DA tries to get justice for their counselor and Agent Eppes. But for Martin, there is nothing. He may have not been the best man, or best agent of the century, but he didn't deserve to be killed and then riddled with bullets as if he was the devil himself."

The words poured from the DEA agent.

The feeling of a cold stone settling in his stomach returned. The injustice felt by the partner of Martin Ward was the same injustice he felt whenever he looked to the desk that once belonged to Don.

It had taken only two weeks for the higher-ups is to reassign the desk to the money laundering section. It wasn't the fault of the new Agent Gregson that he had gotten Don's old desk, but the resentment still haunted the floor.

"I haven't given up on Don." David declared, and with startling clarity, he realized that this was true. He couldn't give up. Maybe he could switch modes, but he would probably still be searching for his killer in twenty years. "And I haven't given up on Agent Ward."

David lowered his head as tears pricked at his eyes. He just had thought of Don in the past and of finding a killer, not a man. Maybe he needed a vacation to sort through his feelings and make a decision whether to go on as if Don was alive or to go on as if Don was dead.

He looked up to the calendar at his desk. More than six months ago, Don had been taken. Maybe he could get a day off.

"Agent Sinclair?"

Surprised, David jerked upright. He had forgotten the telephone in his hand. "Yes?"

"You'll call me if there is anything new? Sami ... his widow asks every day what we are doing and when justice will be done."

David swallowed hard. He got the same looks from Alan, Charlie, and Robin. Even Liz and Nikki gave him this stare.

"I'll call."

They ended the conversation with platitudes.

DEA Special Agent Richard Miller hadn't missed a single opportunity to muscle his way into the FBI investigation. His partner and friend had been murdered the same day as Don had disappeared protecting Robin, the real target.

Evidence on the scene and sketchy witness statements from the guests of a nearby bar all pointed to another attempted abduction. The crew only wanted to grab him, but Agent Ward's fast reflexes signed his death sentence.

The crew still took him to a deserted industrial park. It was a carefully staged execution. It hadn't mattered for the director of the scene that his victim had been already dead as the bullet entered his skull.

The message given, Ward's phone had been turned on. Their technician had seen the point in the middle of nowhere and only a single call to the LAPD had been necessary to find the body.

The sheer amount of planning that went into this carefully orchestrated crime blew David's mind. Until then, he had never quite understood why agents hunted for some gangster their whole life, even in retirement. But as he stood in an old and abandoned warehouse near the highway, where not even Charlie could give a narrowed calculation for probable routes, he understood.

David knew that scene by heart. Every day, he looked at the photos, trying to pull a Don and find new links or evidence by staring long enough at the photos.

Charlie's math had highlighted the connection between the DEA and AUSA Robin Brooks, but hard evidence had connected Don's abduction to the murder of SA Ward.

Tire marks matched, as did Don's blood for at least one blood pool.

The DEA had added their information about Flynn Logistics to the central database. Joe Flynn and his syndicate smuggled everything, including drugs, weapons, and stolen goods. He had good connections to all the top players in the game. Years and years of investigation had succeeded in nothing more than an odd statement from a low-level crook and sometimes a seized shipment. They couldn't track his dealings, they couldn't track his customers, and they couldn't prove anything.

Then his son died in jail, and he turned the game around. Now he hunted them. Robin and Miller still had a detail and police protection for their home. At work, they were assumed to be safe.

Joe Flynn was taunting them. The warehouse belonged to his firm, but his lawyers made sure that nothing but the taunt remained from this fact.

Based on the location and the staged death of Ward, Agent Paul had suspected that three persons were supposed to die in this warehouse: Robin Brooks, Martin Ward, and Richard Miller.

There was nothing like guilt to keep you searching for evidence.

David could sing this song, but Richard Miller could probably sing it louder.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 11:15 - Old Warehouse, Los Angeles**

"John?" Zoe hold her breath and listened. She tilted her head and took a really quiet breath.

If John would not do it himself, then she was going to help him.

She carefully stepped forward and paused again. Her heart beat so wildly that she almost heard it louder than the machines of the nearby construction site.

John was working. He couldn't simply return home in the middle of the day, and yet she jerked at every little noise.

Balling her fist, she went to the forbidden side of the hall and entered John's area. She scanned the neat space. It was completely void of any personal things. In such a neat room, it should be easy to spot his notebook.

Her guilty conscience pricked her again and reminded her that she was breaking his trust. But the other part of her promised that this would be worth it.

If he remembered the math professor from CalSci, this man could provide important information on John's life. She was sure that he was a good man with good character. She doubted he deserved the brain injury that kept his memories hostage.

A small cot, some books on law, construction, and, Zoe didn't believe her eyes, math. So much for not caring for his memories or the lack of them. The books were from the library.

Next to the bed was a chair. Underneath, John kept a bag with handles poised to be grabbed in seconds.

It reminded Zoe of her emergency bag she had packed as a little girl. The most important things beside food and clothes had been her diary and her favorite doll. She always kept it next to her bed so she could grab it. If her mother would come because of tornado warnings or floods or anything else, she would have been ready. She sometimes envisioned a volcano erupting right behind their house. It never did. They had their very own volcano inside the house.

She shook her head and tried to refocus on her search. Why did she have always to think about home if she spent some quality time with John? He didn't even have to be in the same room.

Besides the bed, the chair, and the bag, there was only a small stack of boxes. On top of it, John had built himself a simple desk.

This had to be it.

Full of determination, she marched to the makeshift table. On top were other drawings. She shifted carefully through them and hoped that, despite the neat order, he wouldn't see that something was amiss.

Of course, after she brought him back information, he would know what she had done. She swallowed hard. It was worth it. If the professor told her what he knew, she could filter it.

If he couldn't trust her anymore, she would live for a few days with Nancy. Her friend just had kicked out her boyfriend and was always in need for a babysitter for her little boy. After John had calmed down, she could return.

At least, she hoped.

She tilted the papers to let a little more light through the so-called doorway on the table. There were bills from the hospital, court, and other official-looking documents.

Several papers contained drawings, but she couldn't find the notebook or a drawing of his math formulas.

One of the drawings caught her eye. It was a detailed drawing of a gun. It appeared so real, she almost could feel the cold power behind it. She didn't know enough about guns to even hazard a guess about model.

Hesitating, she stared at the drawing of the gun. Maybe he was right, and his memories were bad.

Squaring her shoulders, she decided to go forward with her plan. She was sure that he was a good man.

She should just stick to the notebook and its math.

Zoe returned everything to its place as far as she remembered.

Again, she looked around. No notebook. He would never take it anywhere, where he couldn't guarantee its safety.

Where would she hide something so import?

She never had expensive things needing protection. But she had always taken really good care of her diary.

She hit her forehead with flat hand. Her diary. She had always put it in her emergency bag so she had it if she had to run.

John had probably thought the same thing. Put it in the bag and you can get in a moment's notice.

She grabbed the handles, pulled the bag out, and opened it.

Now this was really violating his privacy. The doubt returned strong and reminded her that he did not want this. But before she could abandon her plan, her finger touched a smooth surface. She grabbed it and pulled it free.

A quick glance to the doorway ensured she was still alone. She squatted down. Nervously, she fingered the cover. It wasn't meant for her to see, but to get to the math she had to look at it.

Maybe if she went really fast through it, it would be okay.

She fingered her cell phone out of her pocket. Angling the notebook until it was in enough light to take a photo, she was prepared. Now she only needed to find the math.

The cell phone was her last luxury item. Her parents had given it her as a present at her graduation. She had been top of the class, and the phone was top of the line then. Now it was old and definitely not hip anymore, but it still took acceptable photos.

She took a deep breath and opened the notebook to look at the drawings.

Half an hour later, she sat on the floor with tears streaming down her face. She couldn't help it.

On one page, there was this beautiful woman. Her face shone with pleasure and happiness. In the next picture, the same woman looked as if she would jump out of the image. She had her mouth wide open and screamed as another man held her. Her eyes were full of fear. There was such a power in this image. Zoe shuddered just thinking about it.

This image kept returning again and again. It was like watching a slow-motion film, hand drawn. A new man came, and then one man ended on the floor. There was blood and chaos. In every picture, this pure and unadulterated fear and panic jumped from the drawing.

She shivered, and new tears streamed down her face.

No wonder he woke up screaming every night, if these were his memories.

It took a long time to find the math. She took several pictures from every image because her hands still shock.

She needed to find out what she could. He could hate her for all she cared, but he deserved closure.

She put everything back in the bag and returned it to its position. Then she left.

On the way to the campus with the bus, she painstakingly drew the symbols from her cell phone to paper.

She tried to forget the other drawings, the panic and fear. She tried to forget about the woman that in one image had made love and in the next was shot and full of pain and fear.

Zoe closed her eyes only to snap them open again. Behind closed eyelids, the black pencil appeared even more alive.

Blinking, she concentrated again on the math. Now she understood why he couldn't give up math he didn't understand. It was the only thing that stopped the other pictures.

It had to help, she told herself.

* * *

 _TBC_


	10. Yesterday Future, Today Past III

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you mega07ghost for your continued support through your reviews! And thank you everybody else for reading._

* * *

 **YESTERDAY FUTURE, TODAY PAST III**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 09:45 - Flynn Logistics Warehouse, Los Angeles**

"Do they know that we have them under surveillance?" Joe Flynn asked his right hand man Randall.

"I don't think so. I caught up with them just as they wanted to go to sleep."

"Good." Flynn nodded and returned his attention back to the monitors. The speaker phones were good enough to even hear their breathing. He now just had to wait for them to start talking.

" _What do you think the old man wants?_ " Stu Hall said. He had introduced himself just as Stu, as if this would protect him from anything. Flynn had known everything about him two hours later.

His companion Daniel Holland just shrugged.

" _Why do we have to wait?_ " Stu Hall stroked his dark and long hair out of his face, glaring around the bare room. The short stubble on his chin underlined his skinny appearance. He wore a formerly white tee and dark jeans. He didn't look any better than the last time Joe had seen him.

Holland sighed. " _I'd rather wait here than in the morgue._ " He wore clean clothes, was clean shaven, and appeared at least half-way sober.

" _You know that this is good, right? If anybody ever hears about our meeting and its topic, Flynn's invincibility is history._ " Stu grinned, and Joe could see the greed in his eyes.

" _Careful, man, I don't think we're here because he likes to chat._ "

" _And why else?_ "

Holland stared at him with narrowed eyes. " _You have to ask?_ "

" _Come on, man, you don't really believe that the guy could have survived the last dose? He was done even if we didn't see it._ "

Holland crossed his arms. " _I would be sure, if you hadn't taken something for yourself from our stash._ "

Stu kicked with his foot against a wall. " _Oh, yeah? You can't really expect me to sit beside this guy for five days, drugging him and not taking something. I didn't want to waste all the good stuff on him. He would die and not even enjoy it._ "

" _If he isn't dead, we are soon going to be dead._ "

Stu snorted. " _I don't think so. If the old man kills all his enemies by accident like the other dude, or by such complicated schemes with drugging and overdoses, I'm still going to be around for a long time._ "

Joe pressed his lips together as he stared at the monitor in front of him. "This explains why they were dishonorably discharged from the Army. They not only deal and take drugs, they can't even keep quiet about their failure."

"Do you want me to interrupt them?" Randall asked.

"No. I want to hear what else they talk about." Flynn refocused his attention to the men he had paid to kill Don Eppes.

" _Even if he had survived, it doesn't matter. You told the cops that he was their main drug dealer. It was exactly what they wanted to hear._ " Stu made his case. " _I don't think they ever checked._ " Stu chuckled. " _After five days of constant high and no personal hygiene, he didn't look like a high and mighty FBI agent anymore._ "

Holland nodded. The frustration was written across his face. " _It's just our bad luck that the cops had to raid the drug house just as we were finishing._ "

Stu laughed. " _I know, man. Five days we stayed hidden, and moments before we finish giving him the highest dose, the cops arrive._ "

His partner rubbed at his forehead. " _If Eppes is alive, we have a problem._ "

" _Nah,_ " Stu said, " _he's dead._ "

Flynn narrowed his eyes. "If he is not dead, then he will be real soon."

Suddenly Randall's phone rang on the table. With a quick apologizing smile, he grabbed his phone and went outside. Flynn continued to stare at the men who ruined his revenge.

Robin Brooks should have never been allowed to have hope. Eppes was supposed to die through an overdose. He was supposed to be buried like a nameless drug addict, forever out of reach for his girlfriend.

Randall came back in. "This was one of our drivers." He took a deep breath. "He thinks he has seen Eppes."

Flynn looked up. "Where?"

"Construction site of the New Style Building."

"Good." Flynn pushed himself up with renewed energy. There was still time to fix this mistake. "Let's go and tell these two gentlemen what is going to happen if they fail again."

Soon, everything would be good again.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 09:30 - CalSci, Los Angeles**

"So," Larry said as a way of greeting as he strolled into Charlie's office on CalSci. "Are we not good assistance anymore? Or is there a more sinister reason to not call us?"

After Larry, Amita drifted in. She held her own laptop like a shield in front of her.

Charlie sighed. "I have work to do and can't help you at the moment."

Larry raised his eyebrows at Amita. "The great master can't use a little help?"

Charlie swirled around. Only slowly did his blank face morphed into one of recognition. "Oh, it's you."

"That doesn't sound much better," Amita said and strolled to the boards. "What are you working on? This isn't the network analysis of Flynn Logistics." Her finger traced lightly over the symbols and digits.

"I know how you feel about Don being alive and -"

"Charles, Charles," Larry interrupted and moved his head from left to right. "We are scientists. We are perfectly capable researching a topic we may not agree with."

Amita snapped her fingers. "This is an analysis of the LA area. It looks like you are searching for a needle in the haystack."

Charlie scratched his head, his curls flowing in the unnatural strong movement. "Yes, I'm trying to find Don." He looked down. "Now that I know he is alive and in LA."

He couldn't help but glance at his two friends as they looked at each other again. He held up his hands. "I know nobody but me believes that it was Don. Except Robin."

"Robin," Amita agreed. "She called, and we talked. She said she believes you because family is more than physical appearance. It's a joined history that needs to be integrated in an analysis, because humans are social beings. We do not make decisions solely based on our own experience but also through our social network. It sounded special coming from her."

Charlie nodded. "Yes. I know, but at the moment this part of the Convergence Emergence Theory is unimportant. It is more important to find the key components that result in Don's current decision-making process."

"Charles," Larry rubbed at his eyes and sat down on the edge of a table. "I don't think that you can separate these two instances from each other. You and your father play an important role in his decision making."

"You mean like coming out of hiding to save me?"

"Why do you think that Don is hiding?" Amita asked and turned to look at her boyfriend.

The mathematician froze. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he managed to free himself out of his congealment. "Do you think he would choose to leave us and Robin on his own free will?"

Amita smiled. "I am a mathematician. My thesis adviser once advised me to never limit the math. You should never go in with an assumption that can destroy your data."

"You mean I should just forget that Don is my brother? I don't see how this helps. I have already far too little data and information." He refocused back on his boards. He would not be diverted from his goal.

Larry sighed. "Charles, don't you think that we can have a different opinion about the way to deal with Don's distressing missing person status and still be good scientists?"

"We want to help, Charlie. And I really would like to find the man from yesterday to say thank you for helping you." Amita wrung her hands and gave him a hopeful smile. "If we check each other's work, we will prevent any assumption from tainting the little information we have."

Charlie pressed his lips together as he looked at his friends. David, Colby, Liz, and Nikki, they all stood by him even after he decided not to consult for the Bureau anymore until Don was found. They never once tried to persuade him to change his stance. Instead, they accidentally sent him information in an e-mail cc because they 'forgot' that he didn't consult anymore. It strangely only happened whenever it involved Flynn Logistics.

His father let him bring boards from the garage to the house. He brought him sandwiches and wisdom but at the end only asked of him little things so he wouldn't get lost in the math.

Now his friends who couldn't stand to see the mangled remains of his normal social life came to help him despite not believing his premise. Maybe they even wanted to prove him wrong, but they chose math and not words and emotions. They were a real family even if they disagreed on something as fundamental as if life should go on as if Don was dead or alive and still stood beside him.

He could try it. "Okay. But if I remove all assumption, there is nothing left."

"What did you try?"

"Find him based on his need to stay hidden from the FBI, the police, and Flynn Logistics. And his apparent need to still be near to his family."

Larry raised his eyebrows and put his finger to his lips. "Oh. Needle in haystack is appropriate."

"Yeah, but if I calculate the known location of cops and the time and place to be near us without being seen-"

"What," Amita raised her finger and smiled apologetically about her interruption, "if you don't search for Don-" She held her hand up to stop the protest that lay on Charlie's lips. "Let me finish. We know where a man matching Don's description was yesterday."

"On campus," Larry offered as Charlie still pressed his lips together to prevent any words from escaping.

"Exactly. And we know that this man ran away. We know from David that he came and went on foot, so he probably has no car. Taking into consideration his avoidance of the police, he didn't have many options of where to run to. If we follow his possible paths, we can limit the places he could run to that allows a living but less danger to meet the police." Amita finished. She bounced on her toes. "Charlie?"

Slowly a smile spread on his face. "Let's do it."

The next hours were filled with writing and the short discussion or even raised voices as they fought about allowed and forbidden assumption. But all in all, it was a highly productive work space. The students that poked their heads in left as they saw the hurried figures writing fast on more boards than should be possible to put in a single room.

It was almost noon before somebody managed to interrupt them successfully.

"Knock, knock." A young Hispanic woman with long dark hair stood in the door way. She had her knuckles positioned near the door frame. She rapped against the door now that she actually had the attention of the professors in the room.

"Excuse me? I'd like to ask a question about some math I've seen." She smiled a beautiful smile that lightened her whole face. "My name is Zoe. Zoe Ramos."

* * *

 _TBC_


	11. Zoe's Help

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _We're continuing right where we left off ..._

* * *

 **ZOE'S HELP**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 11:53 - CalSci, Los Angeles**

Charlie looked to Larry. But he looked as clueless as Charlie felt. Then he looked hopefully to Amita. She usually knew everybody and what was going on.

But she too gave him a little shrug with her shoulder. She raised her eyebrow in a clear sign of I-don't-know-either.

The professor glanced at his board, at the young woman in his office, and back to the board. He had made so much progress. Oh, there was a missing ... He reached up and corrected the last digit.

Somebody cleared his throat behind him. Startled, Charlie swirled around.

"I know you can see me," the young woman, Zoe something, said. She offered an even brighter smile and a small wink. It looked like an act.

"Hmm," he looked down on the floor and then at Amita. He tilted his head and begged her with his eyes to take care of this. He was standing right next to the solution that could bring him to his brother.

Amita sighed, raised her eyebrow, sighed again, and then turned with a fake smile to the young woman.

Charlie didn't even hear the release of breath behind him. Apparently, Larry hadn't been any more interested than he was.

It was his office, though, so he tried to follow the conversation with half an ear.

"Miss Ramos, what can we do for you?"

"Um, I just have a short question."

Charlie heard papers rustling. He figured her question had to do with the papers. But he had to concentrate on the calculation in front of him.

"Charlie?" Professor Eppes jerked as a hand touched his shoulder. His heart doubled in speed, and the release of adrenaline was like a refresh for his mind that removed all of his thoughts. He swirled around.

Amita stood beside him. Her hand remained raised in the air.

"What?"

She looked strange. Instead of relaxing her raised arm, she used her hand to stroke a wisp of her hair behind her ear. She repeated it on the other ear. "You ... you need to take look."

Even her voice sounded strange. In times like this, he regretted his missing master's degree on human relationships and interpretation of human interaction. Maybe he could find a university to study it?

His girlfriend gestured with the papers. "Really, I think she has a copy of your Cognitive Emergence work."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"It's part of your paper that is currently being reviewed for publishing," Amita elaborated.

"It's amazing," Larry said, and handed Charlie a truly ragged-looking paper.

"It can't be part of the unpublished paper." His eyes fell on the equations. He immediately recognized the changes and fixes he had proposed in his paper. "What the-"

He looked up and fixed the young woman with a glare.

She just smiled again. "So, you guys know this formula?"

"It's not a formula-" Charlie started and then interrupted himself. "Where is this from?" He asked instead.

"I work as a waitress, and this is something that somebody wrote from memory. I thought it looked important, but he only brushed it off..." She trailed off and smiled again as if she could smile the questions away.

Charlie studied the numbers in front of him. It was clear that a layperson had written it down. Many of the symbols were poorly drawn, and a few were just wrong. He felt Amita's presence as she looked over his shoulder.

"There is a mistake you didn't make." Amita pointed to line three. "Maybe it's just a student having some fun? Like in a, 'I don't understand something but let's make fun of it' kind of way?"

"You're right. This wasn't the work of somebody who actually understood the concepts behind. It is more like a copy," he agreed.

"So you don't know who wrote it?" Zoe Ramos' face fell. Her shoulders sank. "I had hoped that you would recognize-"

"Oh, I recognize my own work just fine, but this isn't written by-"

Suddenly the woman perked up. "Maybe I made a mistake." She rummaged in her bag. "I only had a photo and copied it to paper because it's so small." She found her phone and pulled it free with a sound of triumph.

"Here." She thumbed through the menu and found the image in record time.

Amita circled around the woman and now stared over her shoulder to the picture in her hand.

"There are several of them, but they all looked identical to me."

"It's different," Amita ascertained and looked up to Charlie and Larry. "The mistake happened by transmitting, the source is clear."

"Okay," Charlie nodded. "Why do you have something that your customer wrote down, Miss … ?" He opened his hand in an invitation to repeat her name.

"Zoe, Zoe Ramos."

Amita was still staring at the phone. Her bewilderment was back. Usually Charlie found it inspiring, but today they had some important math to finish.

"May I?" Amita asked and hold her hand out for the phone.

"Sure." Zoe agreed and gave her the device. "It's not like you're going to steal it, right?"

"Of course not," Larry entered the conversation. "But I am also, like my associate, interested in an answer to the method of acquirement of this paper? The educational process is only achieved through sharing, but this is a little dubious."

Charlie rolled his eyes and gave his friend a look over his shoulder.

The young woman smiled again, but this time a little unsure.

"How did you get it?" He clarified the question.

"It's from a worker from a nearby construction site. I like him, but he is difficult to talk to, and I thought that if I could understand his math better then-"

Charlie laughed out loud. Learning math for love was a new one, but it sounded good. "Listen, Miss Ramos, I can give you my office hours, and then we can find out what your dream guy knows about math and where he could have copied this from."

Her face fell, but she nodded. "Okay; sounds good."

Charlie gaze fell upon his interrupted equation. It was actually far further than he had thought. Amita's starting point was beginning to pay off. After he had found Don, Don could perhaps help him to investigate how his unpublished papers were disturbed. Assuming he didn't simply accuse him of leaving his work lying around.

"Why don't you write down your telephone number," Larry pointed to the paper on Charlie's desk, "and Professor Eppes will call you after he has time to review the status of your copies."

She nodded. Nothing remained on her face from her happy smile. She suddenly seemed infinitely disappointed.

"What the-" Amita's confusion grew and changed to shock. Her hand flew to her mouth. She had seen or recognized something that spooked her. It wasn't easy to spook a woman who liked to role-play online games.

"Amita-" Charlie took a step forward. "What-"

She was breathing heavily. "Are you hurt? What happened?" He put the paper, forgotten, on his table.

She removed the hand from her mouth. But the wide eyes remained. "I ... I," she stammered. Her eyes shifted from Zoe and back to Charlie. "I forgot a meeting with our head of department," she finished in a rush. "I have to go."

"Charlie," she began and pushed the young woman in his direction. "The rest of the photos are the better parts. I think you can determine the exact version of your paper. She can show you the information."

Suddenly she bolted for the door.

"Wait!" Zoe threw up her hand. "My phone!"

Amita stopped and almost collided with the door that was opening right at that moment.

"Woah." Colby held the knob of the door with one hand and held out his other hand to catch Amita. "What's the emergency?"

He waited a moment and then entered the room as soon as it was clear he wouldn't be run over.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Liz commented as she followed Colby.

"We just wanted to bring you the data from yesterday: logs, videotapes and so on." Colby pointed to Liz. He clearly noticed the strange atmosphere in the room.

Liz hoisted the box she carried up on Charlie's desk.

Everybody kept shooting strange looks around the room.

"Are we interrupting something important?" Colby's gaze shifted back to Amita.

They waited. Everybody looked around the room, but nobody said anything.

Suddenly Colby had enough. He hit the desk with his hand, making the occupants of the room jump in surprise. "Okay. What's going on here?"

Amita took a deep breath. She still had the visitor's phone clutched in her hand. "You need to look at these photos."

The young woman stared with big eyes from one person to the next. She was clearly uncomfortable with the change.

"Okay," Liz drew the word out. "What photos?"

"Somebody wrote some parts of my unpublished Convergence Emergence Theory. She has pictures of these writings." Charlie answered. He narrowed his eyes at Amita, trying to understand what she had seen.

Amita drew in a deep breath and then rushed the words out. "They were written by Don!"

"What?"

Charlie was the only one who didn't ask this question. His attention was solely focused on the young woman in front of him. After Don's injury from the fifth man and the apprehension of Robert Posdner, the serial killer, Charlie had returned to his Convergence Emergence work. Don had watched him while he recuperated on the sofa.

Ms. Ramos shifted from one foot to another. "I better -"

"Amita, what do you mean-" Colby started.

"Look for yourself," Amita interrupted him. "It's Don's handwriting. At first I wasn't sure, but -" She held out the phone for Colby to take a look.

After he grabbed the phone, he thumbed through the gallery.

"I'm sure, it is Don's handwriting. It's how he always wrote those symbols, and he was one of the few people who would and could have seen Charlie's work long before he even tried to publish it." She wrung her hands and kept shooting glances to Charlie and Zoe.

"I don't know what's going on," Zoe said. "But I better go now."

She held out her hand for her phone.

"You know my brother," Charlie stated. He grabbed her shoulder. "Please tell me, where is he? Is he okay?"

Colby stared at the tiny screen. His body language was radiating tension.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I should really go now," Zoe repeated and wriggled free from Charlie's embrace. She turned to the door.

Colby looked up from the phone. On his signal, Liz stepped between the young woman and the door.

"You're not going anywhere until you've told us everything you know about these photos."

He pulled out his badge. "FBI."

The young woman paled even more and swallowed hard as she stared at the badge with big eyes. "FBI?"

Colby nodded and grabbed her elbow to pull her along. "You need to answer some questions. Why don't we start with what do you know about Don Eppes and his whereabouts?"

"Oh dear." Larry mumbled. It was a thought everyone could agree with.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 12:30 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David looked up from his work just as Colby and Liz came in. They were bringing a young woman with them.

As Colby caught his questioning glance, he altered his path and came to him. Liz continued on to an interview room.

"What's going on?"

Colby gave him a dark grimace. "This is Zoe Ramos."

"And?"

"Amita thinks she has photos of math written by Don."

David didn't know what to say. Even without all the happenings the last six months, a sentence like this would have been unexpected.

"Yeah, I know," Colby agreed. "But it's Amita. If she says that this is Don's handwriting and that it's possible for him to know these equations, then I am inclined to believe her."

David nodded. Charlie would grasp at straws, but Amita was more levelheaded in this debacle. He motioned with his fingers, and Colby fished out of his pocket the phone.

David grabbed it and thumbed through the menu until he reached the photo gallery. There were the usual snapshots from a farmland somewhere in the Midwest.

"You have to look at the last photos." Colby looked over David's shoulder. "Here let me-"

"I know how to go through a gallery." David rebuked and continued the long way through all pictures. He ignored Colby's annoyed sigh.

"What did Charlie say?" David asked.

"Oh," Colby leaned against the edge of David's desk. "For a moment, I thought that he would grab her and run away or something. He didn't want us to take her in."

David looked up from the phone. He was already in the few LA pictures stored on the flash drive. "Why?"

"He wanted to know where Don is and figured he had better chances without us."

Sighing, David returned to the picture gallery. It didn't surprise him that Charlie would ignore everything for the off-chance to find Don.

He found the photos. The tiny screen was too little for a good match. "Can we get some high-resolution prints from it?"

Colby shrugged but took the phone. "If Amita is right, this is our first solid lead."

"Lead for what?" a voice asked.

David jumped in surprise. He swirled around. "Agent Paul," he greeted.

"Agent Sinclair." She gave him one of her false smile. There was no way to know how much she had heard. He may not like her attitude towards Don and his family but she was a good agent.

He glanced to Colby who grimaced in agreement. They had to involved her.

"A woman brought in some high-level math to Charlie, Professor Eppes, and asked for an identification."

"And?" Agent Paul never hid her distaste for math in an FBI office.

"Professor Ramanujan recognized not only Professor Eppes' work but also the handwriting." David swallowed. "She is sure that it was written by Don Eppes."

Agent Paul took a step back and crossed her arms. "Wouldn't have thought that Flynn could actually sink so low."

It was David's turn to frown. He had expected her to rebuke the claim and cite wishful thinking. "What do you mean?"

"Remember how Joe Flynn approached Mister Eppes?"

Colby snarled. They all remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. Flynn had gone to Alan Eppes to express his condolences, and had even sympathized, mentioning the loss of his own son. David didn't want to image what would have happened if Charlie had been home. But in his nightmares, it always ended with an arrest.

He looked up to Agent Paul. "You mean the timing is no coincidence."

She snorted. "I guess he doesn't like that we even got as far as the trial."

"But then these photos are our chance," Colby added. "Somebody has to know where they came from and where they were taken and then we have a starting point."

Agent Paul relaxed her stance. "Exactly. I will -"

David jumped up. "You said yourself Joe Flynn has somebody in his pocket. If you go out and use the resources of this office, he will probably know and destroy our only chance."

Paul narrowed her eyes. "My agents are above suspicion."

"I never doubted Agent Chun or Agent Andrew. But you don't have enough manpower to interview this woman and run down everything that she tells us."

"Let us talk to her," Colby offered. "Nobody in this office will think it's strange that we investigate a suspected fraud of Charlie's work. If Flynn is informed about this, he will feel safe."

Agent Paul pointed to the interview room where Liz had already put the woman. Then she pivoted around and stalked off.

David glanced to Colby and grinned. They just got themselves back on the case.

"Get Nikki! We have work to do!"

* * *

 _TBC_


	12. Zoe's Help II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _ **Warning:** slight reference to an attempted sexual assault_

* * *

 **ZOE'S HELP II**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 12:10 - CalSci, Los Angeles**

"Tell me again why you had to tell Colby?" Charlie looked out of the office window. His reflection stared back at him. The reflection of the glass morphed his face in a mask of fury.

"It's your work." Amita looked down. She was still pale. "And these photos and the handwriting ... I knew the handwriting. At first I didn't think much about it. But then," she paused. "I realized what this could mean." She turned full face to Charlie. "I don't need to tell you the probability of someone knowing your unpublished work and writing in Don's hand. It's-" Amita threw her hands in the air in search of good word.

"It's astronomical. Or miracle-like." Larry finished for her.

Neither of them needed to tell him that. But he couldn't finish the thought. He only could remember his nightmares. The sound of running feet as Don ran away just as the police had arrived. He had helped him but had run away as the police came. For Charlie, it meant one thing: Don would have trusted Charlie, but not Colby or Liz.

His anger boiled over. He turned around and stalked with tense steps to where Amita stood rooted on the spot.

"He will probably be gone by the time the FBI manages to get a location," Charlie shouted. "And if not, then he will run the moment he sees the police."

He stood in front of Amita, his hands raised, finger spread and shaking the air as if he wanted to shake her. "If you'd told me, she would have told me about Don. I am his brother. She would have trusted me."

"Charlie-"

"No! Instead you had to tell Colby, and they hauled her off before I could talk to her. Now she's probably in lock-up, and Don is going to disappear." His voice gave out with a hoarse whisper. "I was so close."

"Charlie, I'm sorry, but if she really knows Don, then she will help you if she's good. But what if she is in with Flynn Logistics? What if she wanted to use you to find Don?" Amita talked with her hands as much as Charlie had done. "I was glad that Colby was there, because the FBI has the time and the resources to determine her intentions."

"But I could already be with Don, if you -"

"Or you could already be used as leverage, a hostage, or walking into a trap," Amita pointed out. "You don't know, and being a little bit suspicious if suddenly a woman arrives who maybe has knowledge of Don's whereabouts isn't a bad thing."

Charlie clenched his fist and stared at her furiously. The perfect argument to rebut her argument was just out of his reach.

"Maybe," Amita started slowly, "maybe we find him ourselves if we use the data from her phone in our calculations?"

Charlie knew that his math would be the solution, but right this moment, he could only think to be as near as possible to his brother.

His shoulders sagged. "You do it." He grabbed his jacket. "It probably won't matter because he is going to run."

He trudged to the door. "I'll be at the FBI. Maybe they will tell me something."

"Charles," Larry called after him. "We need you for the necessary calculations, because if he has written these equations, than you are part of the solution. He is communicating with you by something only you know."

Charlie stopped.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 12:30 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

She should have left it alone. She should have just left it alone. Suddenly she understood with all her being what John had meant. But now it was too late.

Her heart beat painfully in her chest. She had always been a good girl and never got into trouble. She tried to dry her sweaty palms on her trousers. It was a good thing that she had dressed regularly and not with her usual whimsy.

With fear-filled eyes, she looked around the glass cage. It was probably only an interview room, but for her it almost appeared stronger than the thickest wall. Nobody looked her way, but she still felt eyes on her body. It was worse than the day in high school she had a wardrobe malfunction.

That day now seemed like a walk in the park.

As the agents had asked her to accompany them, she hadn't dared to argue. Arguing only made things worse. Her father hadn't taught her much, but this lesson had stuck around. Whatever the agents wanted had to be important. They almost were more nervous and jumpy then she had been.

She jerked as suddenly the door was opened and two African-American agents marched into the room.

The woman seemed young, but the expression on her face made Zoe drop her gaze down on the table. The man had seemed more calm and soft. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad?

The female agent positioned herself opposite to her. She crossed her arms and didn't even try to hide her anger. "Where is he?" She also didn't waste any time.

Zoe sank lower. She should probably do something. Like asking for a lawyer? But she had no money. Not even to rent an apartment. How should she pay for a lawyer? She wasn't aware of anything bad that she could have possible done.

"Ms. Ramos." The man sat down next to her. He projected calm and trustworthiness. "Let's start with some introductions. My name is Special Agent Sinclair. This is Special Agent Betancourt."

"Where is he?" Agent Betancourt repeated.

Zoe shifted a little on the hard metal chair. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked at Agent Sinclair. He really seemed far kinder than this Agent Betancourt. "I really don't know what this is about."

"Okay." He gave Betancourt a signal, and she sat down. "Let's explain it."

"These are the photos that you showed to Professor Charles Eppes." Agent Betancourt put on the table several high-resolution prints. How did they get them so fast? "Is this correct?"

"Yes." Zoe had to moistened her dry mouth and clear her throat. "Yes. Is something wrong with them? He said that I shouldn't have them, but I -"

Agent Sinclair held up his hand and stopped her explanation. "Did you take these photos from the original drawings?"

"I don't -"

"A simple yes or no would be sufficient," Agent Sinclair said as Agent Betancourt put down a new batch of John's math drawings.

"They're just drawings!" She pointed at the picture and started to sit up straighter. She had a responsibility toward John. He had wanted to drop it and enjoy what he had, and now she had destroyed it. But maybe she could save at least his freedom.

Both agents just stared at her. She lowered her head again. "Yes. I took them, but I -"

"Okay," Agent Sinclair eased himself up and circled around the table. "Then we need to know when and where you have taken these photos."

"Um-" She swallowed and tried to think of good lie. She had never been a good liar. She was better at telling stories, but outright lying in these circumstances wasn't part of her abilities.

"You know that we can trace your cell phone, and the pictures come with a timestamp." Agent Sinclair pointed out calmly.

Zoe shifted again. They really were after John. Why didn't she listen to him?

"Um, they were taken at work?" She offered at last. It was a half-truth.

"At work? Where do you work Ms Ramos?"

"Boyd's diner. It's a," she gave a little shrug, "diner."

"And? Ms. Ramos, you are hindering a federal investigation. You don't want to find out what this entails!" Agent Sinclair's voice had risen in volume and intensity.

Zoe swallowed hard. She just had wanted to help. Wringing her fingers, she stared down at the table top. "It's like I've told the professors at CalSci. I work as waitress and somebody asked me if I knew this math, but I didn't."

"So you went to CalSci to find out what it was."

"Yes." This was safer ground. She could just agree. Maybe they wouldn't want anything else.

Agent Sinclair sat back down. The whole interview room seemed to relax. "Did you know that they were part of Professor Eppes' work?"

"No, no. They told me that I wasn't supposed to have them, but I didn't mean any harm." She was an actress for goodness' sake. She just needed to swallow her fear and regain her composure like for any audition or play.

"That's good to hear. So, you can help us find the man who has written them."

"I don't-"

The female agent suddenly spoke up with fire in her voice. "You are in possession of important evidence. These equations were written by a man we are looking for."

Cold fear gripped her lungs and settle like ice in her veins. It was like John had feared. He wasn't paranoid after all. They really were out to get him.

She kept silent.

"Where is the man that wrote them? Where is Don Eppes?" Agent Betancourt asked.

Zoe dared to look up. "I don't know any Don." She had the feeling that she should recognize the name, but names never had been her strength.

Laughter erupted in the room. It sounded wrong. "Are you sure? Don't you watch TV?"

"Oh," she said as recognition sat in. "You mean the missing agent? But I don't know anything about him." This was easy. It was the truth. Zoe relaxed a little.

"But these were written by him."

"No, John wrote them."

Agent Sinclair leaned forward. "John?"

Suddenly her mouth was complete dry. She had walked right into their trap.

"John who, Ms. Ramos?"

She swallowed hard. Maybe her acting chops needed work. Maybe she really wasn't meant for this pressure. "Okay, okay. He works on the construction site near Boyd's diner. I met him through work, and I got all the stuff," she moved her hands over the pictures on the table, "from him. It's his drawings and calculations."

Agent Sinclair closed his eyes and appeared equally relieved and stressed. Agent Betancourt just looked even more furious with narrowed eyes and balled fists.

"When did you take the photos?"

"What did he do? I like him; he has always been nice to me." Zoe dared to ask.

Agent Bentacourt leaned down over the table. "When did you take these photos?" She repeated the question with even more heat.

Zoe shrank back. "Just today."

"Okay. See, that wasn't so hard." Agent Sinclair relaxed. "John wrote these equations, and you wanted to help him by asking Professor Eppes. Did you see him writing it?"

Her heart beat painfully in her chest. "No."

"So, he also could have stolen them? Or maybe he even met Don Eppes?"

"I don't think so. I don't …" She learned forward. If she couldn't help him with her acting ability, then maybe she could help him with her words. Maybe the agents would have mercy. "He works really hard and is often tired because he tries so hard. He really is a good guy. He helped me, and … he is a good guy. I don't think that he has anything to do with your missing agent. He isn't- … Why are you looking for him?"

Agent Sinclair massaged his forehead. "What do you know about your friend?"

Zoe leaned back. She had to at least buy some time. It didn't really matter what she said, they would doubt it and make her repeat it until she didn't even know it herself anymore.

So, the truth had to be it. If she could get out of here fast enough, she could warn him. He was paranoid enough to have a backup plan. She could give him everything she owned and the few dollars she had saved up. It had to be enough. Maybe she could send him to her parents? After all, he was a good guy; they could probably get him a job.

She took a deep breath. "His name is John Smith. I saw him first maybe two or three months ago. He came to the diner and bought a coffee. I see him pretty often because of where he works. Sometimes we deliver to the construction site and ..." She shrugged. If she kept the living arrangement out of it, it was a pretty boring tale.

Relaxing her arms, she leaned forward. "One day, a few customers got a little," she looked up to the ceiling trying to find the right word, "pushy. They made remarks, and I was the only employee. I got scared."

She got scared enough that even now in the supposed to be safe FBI office, she could feel goose bumps all over her body. She could almost feel the hot breath on her chin, the smell of work and sweat, and hear the raunchy words whispered in her ear.

She closed her eyes trying to push the images away.

"He came in and threw them out. And ...," she rubbed at her eyes. "He saved me, and I will never forget that. So ..."

"So?"

Zoe sighed. She still needed to tell more of the story. Trying to fix the idea what not to tell in her mind, she added another white lie. "Once he asked me for help, and I tried to. Help, I mean."

"What help?"

"He had a note-" Zoe stopped herself, "a notepad with math in it. He said that he dreamed it but couldn't remember what it meant. So he asked if I knew what it meant or could tell him who to talk to about it."

"And?" Agent Sinclair prompted as Zoe didn't know what else to tell him.

Zoe frowned, her thoughts furiously circling around trying to find a solution. Suddenly she had the easy way out. With a smile, she said: "That's the reason I went to Professor Eppes, to ask him to identify the math formula."

"Equation," Agent Sinclair corrected. "It's an equation."

"Okay. Equation. Math is not my strong suit."

Agent Betancourt crossed her arms and scowled. "And why didn't John Smith go himself to Professor Eppes?"

Zoe bit her lip. She didn't have a good answer for this. The truth would make look John even more suspicious.

Agent Sinclair leaned back in his chair. He tapped his finger on the table. "Could it be because he has something to hide and needed a scapegoat?"

Her reflex was to deny, but she doubted they'd believe it. She gave a little one-sided shrug. "He said that he had tried and hadn't any success, so I thought I would try again for him." It was the truth and so she dared to look at the agents.

"Ma'am, if he is as innocent as you claim, then he can tell us everything he knows and be on his way."

Agent Betancourt added with less civility: "Where can we find this John Smith?"

Now her gaze shifted back on the table. "I only know where he works: across from Boyd's diner, at the New Style Building."

As the agents stormed from the room, Zoe only hoped that John would forgive her.

* * *

 _TBC_


	13. Zoe's Help III

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for your reviews._

* * *

 **ZOE'S HELP III**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 13:20 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David gazed at Zoe Ramos from the observation room.

"What do we have?" Agent Paul strolled through the door from the office as if it belonged to her. Sure, she might work there now, but there was no love lost between the Los Angeles FBI agents and the grumpy woman from New York.

David sighed. He hated to be ordered to wait just as he had gotten some important information that needed to be acted on right now. But he was a professional, and Agent Paul not the first difficult character he had to work with. "Her name is Zoe Ramos. She is a waitress in Boyd's Diner."

Agent Paul examined their witness through the glass. With her crossed arms and tense face, she seemed to dissect her. "And? Does she work for Flynn?" She prompted.

"She is either an excellent actress, or she really doesn't know anything about Don Eppes."

"How far are we actually with the comparison of the handwriting?" Paul turned to David.

"Agent Betancourt is on it. We have enough material for the comparison, but a math equation isn't so easy to compare."

"But…?"

He cleared his throat. "The early assessment is in agreement with Professor Ramanujan: It's Don Eppes' handwriting."

"So, either this Zoe Ramos is a clever decoy or -"

"She was used. According to her, she went to CalSci to help a friend."

Paul snorted. "That is the beginning of every good story."

He sighed. "I know. She believes and defends her friend but doesn't know where he has the drawings from." David recounted the gist of the interview.

"What's his name and address?" Agent Paul gave David a sideway glance. "Assuming she has said anything."

"She knows him under the name John Smith, and he works as a construction worker on the New Style Building."

"How convenient. I'm sure that there are several 'John Smiths' there." She bit her lip. "Home address?"

David shook his head. "She claims she doesn't know." He threw the folder with all information on the table in front of Agent Paul.

"Do you believe her?" She took the file and skimmed through it.

"She's lying about something, probably to protect this John Smith. Several times she defended him. I think that she knows more than she's been telling," David explained.

"But we don't really have anything to keep her." Agent Paul pointed out. "Except maybe obstruction of justice."

David stared at the young woman through the glass. He was mostly used to seeing hardened criminals there. Victims were usually interviewed in the conference room or at the hospital. Zoe Ramos was a bit of both, but he didn't want her to feel threatened. He wasn't the threat, she just had to be careful about the people around her.

He glanced over his shoulder to Agent Paul. "It's enough for a little time to work on her. She's loyal to him because he saved her from a pretty bad situation."

She rubbed her forehead. It was the first time David realized how tense she was.

"We may not have the time for it." She turned around and faced him.

"Why?"

"The DEA and the prosecution still have feelers out there for information about Flynn Logistics because they are now more determined than ever to bring him down." She closed the file and put it down.

"And?"

It was telling that she first looked away and then focused back on him. "They're pulling together some muscle on short notice. There is trouble on the horizon. Somebody has messed up and is now afraid it will come back to bite him."

"How do you or they know about it?"

She gave him a small smile. "You know how it is, need to know only. But we already have everybody on the lookout for bodies. Either Flynn wants us to see this math stuff to taunt us, or they slipped past him. Either way, we are running out of time."

"Then I need to go back in and talk to her." David pointed to the glass. He started for the door.

Paul raised her hand to stop him. "No, it's better to let her go."

"What?" David froze in surprise. Then he half-turned to face her. "If she isn't a willing associate of Joe Flynn, you'll put her at risk. If he wants to find the man, John Smith, as much as we do, he will use her."

Agent Paul mulled his points over. David sighed as he saw her disagreement.

"It's still better to let her go. Do you remember the files and reports you read about Joe Flynn? The chance is fifty-fifty that she is a decoy. If she isn't, we are going to be on her, and she won't even know."

Before David could argue further, Liz knocked at the door. "Excuse me, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, come in," Agent Paul said beckoning her in.

"Liz, what did you find out about John Smith?"

The woman grimaced. "I didn't get very far before Agent Paul ordered me to drop this and reactivate Charlie's network analysis and find out what all the people associated with him had been doing the last few months."

David swirled around. "I gave Agent Warner -"

"I outrank you, and I'm leading this investigation." Agent Paul talked over David's protests. "Agent Warner was right to do what I asked. If you want to lead a case, you can return to the files stacked at your desk and work on them. But I lead this case."

David pressed his lips together. His eyes flashed dangerously and anger shook his body. With great difficulty, he relaxed again. For Don, he needed to stay on the case for Don. He had a duty to do. He needed to stay on the case for him. And Alan. And Charlie. And Robin.

Agent Paul waited a moment longer, then she also relaxed. This round went to her. "Okay. We release the woman. If she's just protecting a man that may or may not know where Don Eppes had been writing this, then she is going to lead us right to him. If she's a decoy, we'll also know."

Paul took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes. "Agent Sinclair, you and Agent Granger drive to the New Style Building and try to find this John Smith. We need the original drawings, and, better, the man. Do whatever you need to do, just get me this John Smith!"

"And what are you going to do, ma'am?" David didn't think for a moment that she would let them do this alone.

As she realized that her glare didn't make him back down, she sighed. "We will follow Zoe Ramos."

"You are going to take Agent Warner with you, right?" David proposed. "Zoe Ramos knows her, and Liz can make contact if you have any trouble."

This time he received an annoyed glare and no answer. But he trusted Liz to follow the implicit order.

"I suppose," Liz started, "Don being alive isn't on the table? Flynn could be pulling muscle together to find him."

"No. It's far more likely that this John Smith is a witness. We still need to find the body." Paul said. "And I'd like to know how this John Smith came in the possession of this paper."

"I just had to ask, because Joe Flynn appears to be panicking with the amount of attention he is knowingly drawing." Liz defended her question.

Paul sighed. "Like Professor Eppes refuses to believe he was rescued by a look-alike, Joe Flynn may fear this like the real man."

"Flynn is only endangering himself. Why would he do this? If he is as a professional as you said, then he is overreacting."

Agent Paul grabbed the door knob. "Hope and fear both lead to poor judgment." With that, she left the observation room, taking Liz with her.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 14:20 - Boyd's Diner, Los Angeles**

"Have you seen John?" Zoe stormed into Boyd's Diner and fired the question at Nancy.

"John? Your John? No."

As Zoe turned around to leave again, Nancy grabbed her. "Where have you been this whole time? I know that I promised to cover for you if you ran late, but this-"

Zoe shook her arm free. "Listen, I need to find John as fast as possible." She lowered her voice as customers started to look over.

"You need to help me with the customers, or we're both gonna be out of work in an hour." Nancy stared at her with pure anger. It took a lot to anger Nancy.

Zoe let her gaze travel over the full house. She looked at her friend. "The police are going to be here any minute, and I need to warn John."

"The police?"

"The FBI, strictly speaking, but that isn't important. The important thing is to find him and warn him."

"If the FBI is after him, then maybe it's better that they get him," Nancy said, nodding at a customer that was waving her over. "But you and I need our jobs."

Zoe bit her lip. Then she grabbed an apron and started to run out. "I'll be right back, I just need to check one last little thing."

Before Nancy could say something, the door to the back had fallen shut. Zoe ran all the way to her 'apartment'. She looked left and right before she ducked under the curtain and into the warehouse. If she couldn't warn him, she could at least save his stuff. If the foreman or one of the others talked to the FBI agents, they would find his home.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she stumbled through the dark hallway. She had wanted to help, and now she had destroyed everything.

"John?" She hoped against hope that he would be here and she could warn him and send him off. But only silence greeted her.

She needed a few moments to pack her most important stuff and to grab his go bag. Working as fast as possible, she made it out of their room in record time.

Nancy was right, she needed the job, or she would be forced to return as a failure to her hometown.

She ran toward the exit.

As she raised the curtain, she suddenly saw two pairs of black shoes. Before she could try to duck back inside, a strong hand had grabbed her and pulled her out.

"FBI!"

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 14:25 - Construction Site, Los Angeles**

The silence in the car bordered on uncomfortable.

"Remind me again why we drive out here?" Colby asked. "Because I can think of a lot of places where we'd be of better use."

David just gripped the wheel harder until his knuckles turned white.

"Going to his alleged workplace is a waste of time. Even if he works there, he'll be gone before we even finished talking to the foreman." Colby stared out of his side window. "We should have stayed on this girl."

David stared straight ahead.

"I believe that the good Agent Paul has something against you." Colby turned to look at him. "But she seems to really like Liz."

David just continued to stare out of the window.

"Maybe there is something else going on. What do you think?" Colby continued his endless questions.

David made a non-committal sound.

"Are you even listening to me, man?"

"I am, but I have more important things to think about than Agent Paul."

"For example?"

David snorted. "What Agent Paul said?"

Colby joined the half-laughter. "Really? What interesting stuff did she say?"

"That hope makes you see things. What if we're missing the most important thing because we hope that this piece of paper will lead us to Don's body? It's math. How do you match handwriting in math?"

"Amita is sure," Colby countered, but it sounded like he wanted to convince himself.

The rest of the drive to the New Style Building was spent in silence as both of them thought it over.

They didn't need long to find the foreman after they had reached the parking lot. He was a towering man whose voice could be heard across a long distance as he reamed out one of the truck drivers. Apparently, he had unloaded his cargo at the wrong place and wrong time. This was holding up all the work.

"Mr. Bridges?" Colby asked after he had finished his tirade and the driver slumped away.

"Yes." As he recognized their suits, he sighed. "What is it now?"

"FBI. Agent Sinclair and this is Agent Granger," David introduced them. "We are trying to find a man that might work here."

The foreman shook with laughter. "I have hundreds of guys working here."

David just remained calm. He raised his eyebrows. After a moment, Mr. Bridges stopped laughing as he realized he was the only one. He grabbed a stack of paper that lay on the palette of new stones in front of him.

His face morphed into an expression of resignation. He turned to David. "Who and why?"

"John Smith. Middle height, dark hair, stubble," David said.

Bridges took a moment to think it over. He shrugged. "I know several John Smiths, but I can't tell you if any of them is your man. What did he do?"

Colby bit his lip, but the scorching look he sent David was enough message. Waste of time. "We can't talk about an ongoing investigation."

The foreman raised his eyebrows to express his annoyance. "Of course, but I have better memory for acts than for names. If you tell me that your John Smith beat somebody senseless in a bar, I can think of three Johns that have the potential to lose their temper. So ..." He let the sentence open-ended.

"He could be an important witness."

"An important witness for the FBI?" His voice carried his doubt. "I don't think anybody working here fits that description."

"He may have an important piece of evidence in his possession." Colby signaled his disagreement with a scowl on his face, but David wanted to keep the channel of communication open. Looking for a witness was a less likely candidate to induce fear and scattering.

Bridges shook his head. "Look, no one's said anything about witnessing anything or having important information."

David drew his lips in thin smile. "Mr. Bridges, think again. Do you really want us on your back? I can call every agency in, and we will descend on your construction site, your firm, everything. Taxes, IDs, approvals, licenses, the whole nine yards."

"My paperwork is in perfect order."

"That may be, but to verify this is going to take time. Do you have the time?" David challenged.

The foreman didn't react.

Colby sighed and then grabbed his phone.

"Wait." Bridges jutted out his lips. "Like I said, I know several John Smiths. But you can look around and see if you can find your man."

"Thank you, Sir. If you can think of other information, call me please." The foreman took the offered card and pocketed it with a nod.

David and Colby stalked a little over the construction site. Neither man had any hope to find a John Smith.

As expected, nobody knew anything and everything was perfectly in order.

"The foreman totally bought time to send everybody away as he gave you his talk about behavior," Colby said as they were on their way back to car.

"I know."

From the second access road, a dark Mercedes slowly drove across the dirty road. That was odd. The two men in the front didn't match the luxury car, and the luxury car didn't fit the dirty road.

"He is going to damage his car," Colby remarked having watched the same scene.

"At least it isn't our car."

Colby snorted and started to turn to their SUV.

Suddenly he jerked to a halt. "Holy -"

David ran into him. Before he could question Colby's behavior, he saw what had stopped Colby in his tracks.

After six months, endless hours of searching, and lost hope, out of the blue Don Eppes was standing in front of him.

* * *

 _TBC_


	14. Protective Custody

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **PROTECTIVE CUSTODY**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 14:40 - Construction Site, Los Angeles**

David rubbed at his eyes, but the image remained. He glanced to his partner who wore an expression of the same confusion and insecurity. What were they supposed to do now?

"I'm John Smith. Mr. Bridges said you were looking for me." The man tried to appear relaxed, but his tense jaw and crossed arms belied his real level of stress.

The resemblance was extraordinary. But the look on his face and the body language didn't match. He appeared unsure and almost scared, nothing like Don, who always appeared strong and in command. He never showed fear, to the point where some people believed that he didn't fear anything.

David shot Colby a look.

"Okay, I am convinced: Charlie is right, and he has seen Don," Colby whispered. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm looking right at him."

Nothing in the man's behavior suggested that he recognized them. He didn't know them, and this was their painful clue that they hadn't found Don.

"That's impossible," David countered. "Charlie's Don isn't our man. Neither is this, or he would have recognized us."

David took a deep breath and put on his best 'I'm-in-control'-mask. It wouldn't help anybody if they appeared as confused and sad as they felt.

"Sorry, who are you?" he asked as if he hadn't heard him the first time. For a moment, David couldn't think about anything else.

The man sighed. "John Smith. You were looking for me."

Colby swallowed hard. "We walked across the whole site and couldn't find you. Why come out of hiding now?"

"My memory isn't what it used to be, but somehow I don't think that I am somebody who runs away from his problems."

"Then why did you run away from CalSci?" David took a stab in the dark. The comment about memory irritated him. The fingerprints had failed, but he was sure that this was the man Charlie had met.

Don, and David couldn't help himself but thinking about him as Don, narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were after some piece of evidence?" He dropped his crossed arms but added hostility to his voice.

David balled his fist. "You're well informed."

Shrugging, the look-alike answered, "I heard you. Mr. Bridges is a good man, I couldn't let him take the fall for something I did." Near the portable buildings, Mr. Bridges watched them while pretending to be busy with his paperwork.

"And what did you do, Mister Smith?"

David sighed in relief as Colby took over the conversation. He wanted, no needed, more time. He reminded himself again: the fingerprints don't match. This wasn't Don Eppes. Yet everything screamed at him that this was him. He now could understand Charlie better than he ever had wanted.

As an answer, they got again just a shrug. "Probably whatever you think I did." The smile didn't match the resigned voice, but body language matched both.

"So why did you run away after you helped Professor Eppes?" David just wanted to get through this.

"Eppes is the curly-haired guy?" John Smith asked. It confirmed their suspicion. He was the man Charlie had met.

"The police and I don't like each other. It's better to stay out of each other's hair. But I thought this was about a piece of evidence."

"It is. But let me ask, why break your own rule and seek us out?" They shouldn't forget the cruelty that Joe Flynn was capable of.

John Smith rocked a little on his feet, crossing his arms again as if he didn't know what else to do. "I know how this goes. You keep coming back and bothering everyone until everyone is out of a job. So, I figured that I should try to limit the damage to everybody else."

This answer fit better the behavior of a man running away from the police.

"Do you have an ID?" Colby asked, and David could hear in his voice that he just wanted to be far away from the criminal look-alike of Don. Life wasn't fair.

"Sure." He pulled out a driver's license and held it up.

"I'll check this out," Colby said and turned to go back to the car.

"I can also tell you what you're going to find." John Smith offered.

"Yeah? What?"

"A heck of a lot of nothing. I don't remember anything clear until six months ago. And despite a drug overdose, I'm not in any system."

David took a sharp intake of breath. Okay this was it: this was the moment he had seen coming: either he was about to walk into a miracle, or he just had lost his mind.

Hope reared its ugly head again. He really needed to do something about being played like a yo-yo. But six months and no memory were cruel hints. If Zoe Ramos was right and her John Smith had written the math, then David was looking at a man who not only looked like Don, but also wrote like him. Could it be?

Colby caught his eye, and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

"And nobody has run your prints, sir?"

John Smith startled at the use of the honorific. He blinked at Colby as if he couldn't understand that somebody would call him 'sir'. "Of course, several times. No match. I had to get a new name and ID from the courts."

"So you wanted Professor Eppes to identify your math dreams?"

The man narrowed his eyes. Tensions that had slowly disappeared from his frame returned with vengeance. "What?"

"Your friend, Zoe Ramos, told us about the dreams and the math." Colby took over the interview more and more as David tried to come up with a plan to keep the communication open with John Smith. He needed to stay with him.

Smith just pressed his lips together.

"For the record, she just wanted to help you. But through her, we knew where you worked."

The man swallowed visibly. His broad shoulders couldn't hide the tired and drawn features. "What do you want? I helped the man, and then I went away. Okay? This may not be perfect, but I have a job and -"

"Actually sir, we would just like to run your fingerprints again." David interrupted. "You have a strong resemblance to a man we are looking for and that is the reason why your actions in the CalSci parking lot gained this much attention."

"You have already run my prints. Why do you think this time it will reveal something else?"

"We have better computers." Colby said. It was a stupid argument and John Smith repaid it with a look that was just pure Don Eppes.

"Who handled the original investigation about you?"

Smith balled his fists and pressed his lips together. For a moment, David was sure he would refuse to answer. "Newtown PD, way north. Ask for Detectives Reed and Torres, " he added.

"Okay, we just want to make sure that their search didn't miss something." Colby spoke with his most calm voice.

He had also picked up the thin ice they were standing on.

"If you're not a man to run away from your problems, why did you run away at CalSci?" David had to ask. If he could understand the motivation better, he could maybe talk him down from the confrontational collision course they were running on. They were just two questions away from having to ask him to accompany them.

"Something my friend," he spat this word, "Zoe had said."

"Oh, what did she say?" David could hear the underlining anger. They had to be careful with his anger.

"That I cannot run away for the rest of my life. If nobody knows anything, then maybe there is nothing."

"Good advice."

"And yet you're here and want to drag me to the station."

David glanced at Colby. There was a story in this little sentence. They would definitely have that talk with the NPD.

"No, we -" David stopped himself as sirens entered the construction site. The dust cloud drew a clear path in the sky. He looked at Colby as the SUV came into view.

David suspected who was running their car like this through the dust even before she jumped out of the car. John Smith looked ready to bolt. Colby shifted to block any attempt, but David was more worried about a confrontation than an attempt to run.

"Agent Paul?" He intercepted her before she could reach Don. "What happened?"

"We're going to take your guy in." She indicated Don as 'your guy' with a jerk of her chin.

"We were just talking, and I was about to ask-" David stood directly in her way.

"Actually, I don't care. We need to take him in." She turned her focus to David and let the agents she had brought with her form a circle.

The confrontation David had worked hard to prevent was close to erupting. "He is the man from the CalSci parking lot. We both know that the fingerprints there didn't match."

"I know, but this doesn't matter anymore." Paul said and signaled to David to step aside.

He took a half-step, enough to fulfill her unspoken order but not enough to make the path clear.

"Before the FBI adopted science, and math," she sent David a sharp and angry glare, "we worked successfully with other things. For example, identifying marks."

Her glare wandered from David to Smith. "Show me your chest!" She ordered. Her hands made the upwards motion to indicated what she wanted.

"What?"

"It's simple, Mister. Show me that you don't have a scar running down your ribcage, and I am on my way and you can continue your nice talk with Agent Sinclair. But if you have a scar, you are going to accompany us now. No arguments."

"Why?"

"Just do it! We both know that I can compel this, or do you want me to arrest you first?"

David turned around. He saw on Smith's face what the result would be before the man started to drag up his shirt. David closed his eyes as the first marks came into view. He still could smell the blood in his nose as Colby had pressed down on the wound. That had been his first attempt at leadership, and he had almost lost his boss. He would never forget.

He looked to Colby. Despite the fact that Colby could only see the back of John Smith, no Don Eppes, he probably saw the truth reflected in David's face.

David looked to Agent Paul with a heavy heart. "What's going on?" She had known that it was Don Eppes, and not because she had hope or because she had sources she could not share.

As they left the office, she had been sure that Don Eppes was dead and John Smith was a way to nail Flynn. But now she stood there with widened eyes, pale skin, and nervous energy rolling off her in waves.

"What is going on?" David repeated the question, louder.

She stared a little moment longer at Don, or Smith, or whatever. Then she turned around and marched back to the car. "Let's go."

Now David's anger flared up. He didn't care about her less than stellar leadership, but he was a friend, a friend of Don. A friend who just found out that Don was alive and who wanted answers. "Agent Paul!" he called after her.

She stopped and turned around. "We need to get out of the open and out of the line of fire!" Urgency made her voice sound harder and stronger. "After we're safe, we can have the chat about wrong assumptions and mistakes."

Something had spooked her. David refused to let go of his anger, but he acknowledged the need to relocate the discussion.

"I'm not going anywhere."

David heard a snort behind him. He turned around and looked at Colby. Don wore an expression between resignation and angry refusal. Despite his words, he was already working at relaxing, starting with his crossed arms.

Agent Paul just raised an eyebrow at Don.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what I did. For months, I have been trying to find out something from my past, to make sense of the dreams and memories I have. And now I find out that whatever I did apparently goes up to the federal level. I need to know."

David could understand this.

"You are an important witness."

Now Don laughed out loud. "Then you're out of luck lady. Because I don't remember anything." He took a half step to the side as if he wanted to return to work. Agent Andrew blocked his path.

"I don't need your memory." Agent Paul said and started to turn again. "As long as I have you and your notebook, I have everything that I need."

David had time to take a short snap of breath before the anger broke loose. Without any forewarning Don lunged after Paul, aiming for the notebook now in her hands.

"That's mine!" he screamed with anger that bordered on desperation. His fingers enclosed the book and tore it out of her hands.

David froze, horrified, before he entered the resulting fight. Only one would be losing.

* * *

 _TBC_


	15. Protective Custody II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Dear guest reviewer(s): thank you for your kind words._

* * *

 **PROTECTIVE CUSTODY II**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 15:30 - Construction Site, Los Angeles**

David had taken Agent Paul aside. "What was this supposed to accomplish?"

Paul was breathing hard from the fight and the adrenaline. "Excuse me?"

"You knew that he wouldn't trust us, and you couldn't have missed the tension. If you had just let me talk to him-"

"And then what?" She straightened up. "It still had to happen."

David shook his head. He was still hyped up from the fight. "A fight had to happen? I would have gotten him to trust us and come with us. Willingly."

She patted David on the shoulder. "I know how hard it is to suddenly be an agent around a friend. But we needed to take him into custody. And he needs to know that our protection is a given fact and not an option."

"Why?"

"Joe Flynn is out on a warpath. He knows that Don Eppes is alive. Eppes is the key to the undoing of Flynn Logistics and all of their operations."

"All the more reason to work with him and not against him."

"Which I did." At David's confused look, she clarified. "I'm the one who escalated the situation. I took him into custody. You are the sensitive guy, the good guy. Now you can go talk to him and he'll be willing to listen. You're his friend. If I'd ordered you to take him into custody, you'd have been compelled to do it. Like it or not, he wasn't going to come willingly."

David rubbed at his forehead. Slowly the fight left him.

"I don't have any problem with being the bad cop. You, on the other hand, would have real trouble being the bad cop while still facing his family and being his friend." She raised an eyebrow. "Now that we all agree that this man is Don Eppes, I would be really interested how this," she pointed to the car where Andrew and Colby had forced the still fuming Don a short time ago, "happened. Because I don't believe a fairy tale about lost memories."

David gazed at the horizon as if he could find the answers there. He replayed the whole conversation again. "He really didn't recognize me or Colby." He looked straight at Agent Paul. "There was nothing, and his behavior was also different. He seemed more careful, less sure of himself. It was as if I was talking to someone wearing Don's face."

Paul found another spot of dirt on her blouse that she flung away. But she was clearly listening. "Did he give you any indication what had happened?"

"He said something about a drug overdose. And he," David pulled out his notebook, "gave us the names of the two NPD detectives who run his fingerprints." He looked through his notes. "Yeah, Torres and Reed."

"They can probably give us a clearer picture of what happened." She took a deep breath and then slowly released it. "Okay, we go to a hospital to get him checked out, see what they say about his memory. You run down the Newtown lead and talk to the detectives."

David gave a short nod. "Why did you suddenly know that it was Don? Why demand to see a scar?"

She looked to the ground, then to the car and then back at David. "We followed Zoe Ramos to the place she and probably Eppes lived." Her eyes focused inward. "And we found a notebook."

"The notebook that made Don flip?" Colby entered the conversation as he strolled around the side of the second SUV. "Because that needs to be a heck of a notebook to make somebody go as ballistic as he did."

Agent Paul pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's highly emotional material." She looked to her car where the sealed notebook had been put. Her eyes shone with emotion as if she could look at its contents through the car doors.

"Agent Warner is still running the scene there." She offered at last, distractedly.

Then she squared her shoulder and marched back to the SUV. "We better get out of the open, get Eppes to a hospital."

Colby sighed and clapped David on the shoulder. "I better drive with them to the hospital. Just to make sure."

David nodded. He also would love to make sure that Don was all right, but he knew he just had lost an important point of trust and it would be difficult to regain it. He was failing on every front.

"I hate to be the guy that has to call Charlie," Colby said. Then he turned around and sprinted to the SUV carrying Don and jumped in the backseat.

David's shoulders sagged. He would have to be that guy. He watched for a moment until the SUV started the ignition. Apparently, Colby won the anticipated fight about whether he had any business to be there.

David raised his eyes to the half-finished building in front of him. He stared at the many busy hands were building a building out of thin air. Suddenly a shadow shielded him from the sun. He turned his attention back to his surroundings.

"Why'd you arrested him? He do something?" Bridges asked. He indicated with his chin the dusty trail Agent Paul's SUV left.

"Something," David agreed carefully. His finger brushed against his cell phone. Calling Charlie suddenly seemed like an impossible feat. But gathering information from the man in front him would be easy. Brushing off the small voice that chided his reluctance, he refocused his mind on the foreman.

Before he could ask a question, the man himself offered with a thoughtful glance on his face: "You know, he is a good guy. He doesn't deserve to be hauled off like that."

David couldn't agree more. "Yeah, I know." But Don had made it easy for Paul to justify her decision. "What do you know about him?"

"A friend from Newtown recommended him to me. He said he was a hardworking man who deserved a second chance after he almost died. So I offered him the same job I offer a lot of people; even people just coming out after years inside."

He nodded. It seemed like a reasonable course of action. Construction work was hard work with only a few temptations and easily replaced workers. It was the kind of job somebody would end up with if he hadn't anything else.

"What's the name of your friend?"

The foreman stared at him. "Jack House, he runs a shelter in Newtown; he met him there. I don't know anything else, and I don't want to know anything else. Jack says he is a good worker, he gets a chance like anybody else. If he's good and dependable, he will have a future with me, if not," he spread his hands, "not my fault."

"Thank you, sir." David offered his hand.

For a moment, it seemed that Bridges wouldn't take it but then he did. "Treat him right. I know people to keep an eye on him."

David made a grimace. "Of course."

Usually Don was the one who took everybody under his wing and protected them. It seemed he inspired the same desire in others.

He dialed Nikki's number on his way back to the SUV. She answered on the first ring. "Is it true? Bossman is alive and you have him?"

She sounded breathless and exited. David needed a moment to remember that despite the trouble they still faced, they had found Don. Alive. It was something to be excited about. Slowly a real smile spread across his face. "Yes."

A shout of triumph echoed in the office, and David could hear the resounding voices.

"Nikki, Nikki!"

"Yeah?"

"It's not as good as it sounds." David dampened her enthusiasms.

"Yeah? What's bad about it?"

He wrestled with himself, but Agent Paul probably wouldn't take the time to tell Nikki. "Don doesn't remember. He doesn't know who I am, or who Colby is. He doesn't trust law enforcement. He just seems tired and angry." David closed his eyes. "He doesn't remember a thing."

"So no party?"

David laughed out loud. "Nikki, he more or less attacked Paul. If he doesn't improve in the span a few hours, you not only won't have a party, you're probably going to have to figure out how to guard someone who has no idea who you are and isn't particularly friendly."

The silence on the other end of the line was telling.

"I mean," David continued, "I wouldn't even dare to let Charlie see him. I wouldn't be sure that Don wouldn't suddenly perceive him as a threat or traitor and act accordingly."

"That is bad. Darn."

"Yes, it's bad. But there is a weird story here, especially with law enforcement. Before Paul arrived, Don told us that Newtown Detectives Torres and Reed had run his fingerprints. The way he talked about them, it didn't sound good. Please find out what they did and where they found him. Just anything you can get from NPD."

"So he was talking to you before the lady arrived?" Nikki latched on the one information that would make life in the office even worse.

"Nikki, do your job and hope that we'll get Don back before Agent Paul is a permanent part of our lives," David ordered and closed his phone.

One down, two to go.

He dialed Liz next.

"Where are you?" he asked after the required greetings.

"A few meters away from you. Just behind Boyd's Diner, there is an empty warehouse."

"Okay. Was Don living there?"

Liz took a deep audible breath. Then she asked in voice that couldn't hide her tears: "So it's really him? He is alive? We found him?"

David stopped again in the short span of a few minutes. Between hope, anger against Paul, fighting with Don, anger against Paul, and the realization of the sheer magnitude of the trouble and problems ahead, he hadn't yet taken the time to just enjoy that they found Don. The search was over and the dice had fallen: Don was alive.

Maybe not everything was fine, but Don was alive. He had tried to dampen Nikki's enthusiasm, but this didn't mean that he should not feel any happiness.

David should weep in joy, but he just allowed himself another little smile. He couldn't ignore the tasks ahead and he couldn't help himself but to fear the next hours and days, the confrontation with the Eppes family, or Robin. He didn't know if he should treat Don like a criminal, as John Smith, a man he literally didn't know, or as Don, who just didn't know him.

"David? Are you still there?"

But Liz was right, against all odds, as far as David was concerned, they had found Don. Alive.

"Yeah. I'm here. Yes, he is alive and well enough to fight against us. I don't think he is fine, but he is alive."

"This is good."

"What happened? Paul said something about finding a notebook?"

Liz cleared her throat; the hardened agent was back. "We followed Zoe Ramos to their - to the place where they lived. Apparently, Don not only saved her but offered her protection.

"She tried to show her gratitude by helping him to run away. She had grabbed his stuff, and in that, we found a notebook full of sketches." Her breath hitched. "He didn't only draw math."

"Of course not. So...?" He left the sentence unfinished hoping that Liz would fill in the details.

"You have to see them for yourself. Just make sure that you're alone when you do so."

David sighed as he walked to his car. "Liz, I appreciate your concern about Don's welfare-"

"I'm worried about your welfare." She paused. "Just take a look for yourself, and you will understand; understand why it's a slam-dunk case for Meeks and understand why it's so powerful."

"On my way." He finished the call.

As David reached the driver door, he suddenly remembered the black Mercedes. Looking around without seeing it, he concluded that the driver had simply been lost.

He got in his car and took a moment to close his eyes. It was only early afternoon, but this day had already proven to be an emotional roller coaster.

David focused his mind on the tasks ahead. He still had one call to make, a call he would like to postpone to much later. But if Liz was right, then he would have to make it before he looked at the notebook.

Suddenly his phone rang. David glanced at the caller ID: Charlie. It was time for the most difficult conversation.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 15:45 - Unknown Location, Los Angeles**

Joe Flynn threw down the phone but didn't disconnect the line.

Stu and Holland only had one simple job: eliminate Don Eppes.

It was the same job they had already messed up six months ago when they didn't make sure that he died from the overdose.

Now they had managed again to fail this simple task.

"What happened?" He asked after he had retrieved the object.

"We were already on the construction site and asking around. But he wasn't where he was supposed to be after the word went around that they had to scatter."

Joe clenched his teeth together. To get to the man before the FBI could find him had been his best bet. He had been lucky as he his own delivery driver had seen the man and reported it to him. He knew who he could trust.

"And then?"

"We waited for them to leave, but then he actually broke cover and went to confront them."

"And then?" The drugs had destroyed their last brain cells, he was sure of it.

"Suddenly the lead agent, this woman, came."

"Who?"

"Ah, the woman who was always in the TV whenever they spoke about how they couldn't find him."

Joe clearly heard the laughter at the other end. He didn't know what he found more despicable: their drug use, their killings, or that they found both hilarious.

"She had some back and forth. And then she arrested him and dragged him off," Stu reported.

"We are following the car, but it's difficult to stay on without alerting them. But they won't let him go if that's what you're after. They know it's him." Holland was the smart one, but even this wouldn't save his life forever.

"How?"

"The scar."

Joe closed his eyes and snapped his phone shut again.

He had given them the address, the stolen car, everything that they could possible need. His driver had even delayed his delivery until they had been able to get there.

He knew that it had been a short time frame. But shouldn't this have been enough?

Joe had never had to deal with murder and killers as he had always run his business clean and without blood. But they had started the bloodbath by killing his son, and he had a right to hit back with the same force.

He clenched his hands so tightly into fists that his fingernails left impressions in his palms. He bet that Eppes would have never thought that getting arrested by his FBI buddies would save his life.

He had tasted the sweetness of revenge and had paid with his money and his soul for it. The nightmares were just an additional cross to bear. Every night, he either dreamed of his son's murder or how he had killed Martin Ward.

It may not have been his hands that killed the man, but it was his desire and his order.

He had offered a free shipment to whoever found and killed his son's murderer. He hadn't even thought twice about accepting the first offer, never analyzing their capability and plan.

Rubbing at his eyes, he stared at the frame on his desk. His son Matthew smiled at him. If Matthew knew what his father had done, he wouldn't smile anymore.

His second burner phone rang.

"Hello?"

"It is done?" A voice with a masked accent asked.

"Your men failed."

After a small pause, a dark laugh echoed through the tiny speakers. "I take care of it. But Mister Joe Flynn, remember: I protect my family. I guarantee you if I need to clean up your mess, it will include you. And nobody will fail."

Joe didn't say anything until the call disconnected. He didn't need to.

If Holland and Stu wouldn't be able to kill the agent, they would be dead. But their deaths wouldn't even be a factor in his own fate. If Eppes talked, Joe Flynn was done.

His only opportunity to save himself was a dead Eppes.

* * *

 _TBC_


	16. Interrogation

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you guest for your review and thank you all for reading._

* * *

 **INTERROGATION**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 17:05 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

Charlie paced in front of the FBI building. He had called David to explain to him again that he had found Don and that they he had a possible location for his home base.

He had already been in the car and on his way to the New Style Building because this was the most likely place to get a job with a high degree of anonymity and the necessary linkage to local traffic.

He had almost crashed as David told him that he was already there. Charlie had been prepared to beg.

But he had to stop the car as David confessed to him that they had found Don. The tears of joy morphed into a hot ball of anger in his stomach as David told him that he couldn't see him.

He balled his fists at the memory.

First, David hadn't believed him; then, he suggested that Charlie had to believe Don was dead; and now, David had actually found Don but didn't tell him, instead letting this Agent Paul have him.

"Charlie?"

The professor whirled around and lunged at David. Charlie wasn't a violent man by nature, so he didn't really hit David, but he did express his anger by shoving him.

"Where is Don? What did you do to him? How do you know that it is him?"

David captured his wrists and held them in front of him. "Charlie, calm down. I don't want you-" He stopped himself. "Just calm down."

"Let me go." Charlie tugged at his wrists. He didn't want to hurt David.

The agent released him.

Charlie smoothed out his jacket. He should apologize, but he couldn't. "I don't know what came over me," he said instead and hoped that it would be enough.

He looked down at the ground. He had to force his gaze upwards to David's face. "You really have found Don?" His voice revealed the tears that pricked at his eyes again.

David's shoulder sagged. "It looks like it." He raised his hand. "Charlie, I'm sorry. Really, I -"

"Where is he? How is he? What happened? David, I don't understand. Why do you suddenly believe me?"

The agent lowered his hand again. "Charlie, I always believed you. I just thought that you had to be wrong because these things just don't happen in real life. And ...", he swallowed hard, "I stood right in front of him and tried to believe that my hope was playing tricks on me. Until..."

"Until?" Charlie prompted.

"Agent Paul figured it out." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought about it himself. "She demanded to see his scar. I never would have thought that something so awful could be used like this."

"What about his fingerprints?"

"I haven't heard anything about it yet." Despite that it was only late afternoon, David seemed incredibly tired. His face was drawn, and his shoulders carried a burden without name. "Have you seen her here yet?"

"No, no." Charlie rubbed at his eyes. So much for his plan to appear composed and in control. "I want to see Don. I need to see him."

The man in front of him stroke across his chin. "Charlie, I don't think that is possible right now."

"Why? I almost found him myself. I already had a location and -"

"Charlie, Don's memory is not right."

"What?"

"I mean," David closed his eyes before snapping them open again as if he didn't want to remember something. "I mean, he didn't recognize me or Colby. We were virtual strangers to him. And he really doesn't trust any LEO anymore."

"But I am his brother. He already recognized me at CalSci. He protected me." Charlie couldn't understand, Don was his brother, nothing would or could change this.

"Yeah...," David trailed off, his eyes far away. "Come on, let's get inside, maybe you can help us to figure out what Don has been doing the last six months."

Charlie let himself be dragged into the building. He had promised not to return until his brother was found. It was surreal to suddenly enter the office again, walking the same old paths knowing that Don was near and -

He suddenly stopped. "I have to call Dad. What do I tell him?" When Charlie didn't know what to do or say, he usually asked Don. Without Don, he could probably ask Amita, if she was still talking to him. He stared at David, panic written all over his face.

"You could hold off the call until you know more. At the moment, we only have a man in custody that looks like Don and has the same scar." David stopped too.

Narrowing his eyes, Charlie noted David's choice of words. "Custody?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Why custody?"

David rubbed at his forehead. "Charlie, Don not only ran away from the police, but he can also react quite violently if his privacy is violated, which is going to happen."

"You arrested him?"

"Actually, at the moment I don't think anybody wants to label it, but yes, we took him into protective custody."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest as David just talked over him. "And it would probably be better if you wait to call Alan until we are absolutely sure this is Don."

"I can already tell you that the probability that it's not him-"

"Is none," Agent Paul finished Charlie's sentence as she entered the office. Charlie hadn't even heard the elevator ding, so focused he had been.

They faced the newcomer, even if she was unwelcome.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because the man we have is definitely Don Eppes." She snapped her fingers at Nikki until the agent looked up. "Find out why his fingerprints are suddenly a perfect match when they weren't before."

Nikki did not roll her eyes at a senior agent, but only because said senior agent hadn't looked at her. After a confirming nod from David, she set off to work.

"Where is my brother? How is he?" For the moment, Charlie couldn't care less about fingerprints and why they didn't match. He knew that it wouldn't take long for it to become a new priority, but now he really wanted to see his brother.

"What is he doing here?" Agent Paul addressed David.

"I'm standing right here. I demand to see my brother." Charlie didn't like it when Don ignored him or talked as if he wasn't in the room, but this Agent Paul was really something else.

Liz sauntered over. "I called him in to help me with the network analyses he did six months ago." She simply covered for them without a moment's hesitation. "It's our best bet to get Joe Flynn." She waved a file. "This equation would probably benefit from Don Eppes' interactions with Flynn's people the last few months."

Paul pursed her lips. Then she sighed and relaxed. "Agent Eppes suffered an overdose of drugs, probably cocaine. From what Dr. Ramirez told us, it had to have happened roughly a week after the abduction."

Charlie's mind began already to fill in the pieces. "How much of an overdose are we talking about? Something easily transported or ..."

"It was either spaced out over several days, or a very high dose was administered at once. We're still waiting to hear from the hospital that treated him and the NPD detectives about a time frame and dosage."

"And that's how he forgot everything?" Colby entered the conversation and the room through the stairwell door.

Paul narrowed her eyes at him. "Where is Eppes?"

"Still downstairs. They're going to be up here shortly." He gave Charlie a rueful glance and then looked back to Paul.

"Dr. Ramirez thinks there's some brain damage. Apparently, the overdose disrupted his brain's ability to connect faces to names, ideas to words, memories to dates and context. They believe he'll recover in time. "

"It's been six months. Why didn't he recognize us?"

"Dr. Ramirez says recovery happens over time with rest, good nutrition, and a stress-free environment, none of which Eppes has had in quite some time."

Liz frowns. "So his brain won't let him remember?"

Charlie rubbed at his forehead. He recognized the symptoms from his work on the Emergence Theory. "No, it's like a library. Imagine you're in a library. If you search through the books one at a time for one on Albert Einstein, you could be looking for a very long time. But if you go to the librarian or card catalog, it's a much easier process. Without the catalog, there's too much information to be accessed in an efficient way."

Charlie continued explaining to his audience. "When he had the overdose, his brain lost the catalog. All of his memories are still there, but he has trouble keeping them organized in a way he understands. If I were to say 'Dad,' he wouldn't necessarily know I meant Alan Eppes, but he could link to an emotion related to fathers and sons. His query system has been disrupted."

"So he may not remember my face, but he might remember that he had an agent he always sent to man the telephone." Nikki still lingered around.

"He'll likely have trouble focusing on one single memory. They're in a jumble right now, and if 'Agent' is next to 'Alan,' he may be confused at how the two are related."

The elevator dinged again. Colby stepped behind him while Liz and David moved as one and pulled him forward and away from the elevator.

"What?" He dragged his feet.

"I told you, I need your help with the Flynn network analysis."

"But Don-"

"We need a baseline for his memory without adding to the confusion. Meeks will want to know when and if he can add him as witness." Agent Paul joined the fray.

Suddenly he was in the break room, and he only got a glimpse of Don as he was pushed into the interrogation room.

"Don!"

He shot his friends an accusatory glare. They had distracted him to keep him away from his brother.

Agent Paul went to her agents Andrew and Chun and talked to them. Andrew remained in the interrogation room as Chun and Paul went other ways.

Charlie only had eyes for his brother, trying to see his face. But he only caught the back of his head before Agent Andrew closed the blinds.

He went to the door as a slender hand grabbed his arm.

"The faster we take Flynn down, with your help, the faster we can solely concentrate on helping Don." Liz still held his arm. "Right now, we need to help him, protect him, protect the case. When we remove the need for protection, you'll have all the time in the world to reconnect."

"He is my brother." For Charlie, this was the most important point.

"Yes, but at the moment, he is nothing like the brother you remember. Don't do this to yourself. Trust us."

Charlie hesitated.

Liz added another encouragement. "Give it a little time. Don't worry, we'll watch him. You also can look at him through the monitors." She pulled him from the break room and left Colby and David behind.

He followed her.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 18:45 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David made himself a cup of coffee. "How did it go? And I don't mean whatever it is that has Agent Paul excited."

"About like you would think." Colby grabbed himself a water bottle out of the fridge.

"That good?" David inhaled the aroma.

"I don't think I will ever be able to forget Don sitting on the exam bed with his hands cuffed looking miserable. He seemed so incredibly lost and hurt and confused and scared. You know?"

"Scared? That's an emotion I can't really imagine on Don's face."

"Yeah, it's like the look you get when you have a gun in your face and it's your job to talk the guy down. You know?"

"Yeah."

"He was trying to hide it, and the old Don probably would have, but it was plain as day."

"Was he more scared of us or the docs?"

"No way to tell, but it got easier after Doc kicked out Agents Paul and Andrew."

David coughed. "Paul got kicked out?"

"Oh yes, it was a sight to behold." Colby had a full grin on his face.

"And Paul allowed it? I mean, his behavior at the construction site pretty much ensures the need for someone to keep an eye on him."

"Yes, but A, Doc Ramirez is built like a tank; Don would have been toast if he'd tried anything." Colby shrugged. "B, she won the battle that he had to remain cuffed. And C, I was still in the room."

"You didn't get thrown out?"

"No, apparently, I don't freak out Doc Ramirez' patient."

David nodded. It gave him hope. Just a bit, but hope nonetheless. "So, how is he?"

"Thin, unhealthy. I mean, he has really old bruises. I didn't watch for long."

He raised his eyebrows. "You were supposed to watch."

"I know, but man." Colby put the bottle back in the fridge and stared with an expression that asked for understanding. "Don flinched at the slightest touch. He couldn't stand it, and he only spoke when necessary."

David bit his lip. "You wanted to give him some privacy."

"Yes, I know he doesn't need it, because he doesn't even remember that I am his friend, but for me it was important. I can now look him in the eyes and know that I respected him even when he wasn't completely himself."

David could understand this, but he also knew just how dangerous Don could get. "You were incredible lucky that Don didn't get away while you weren't looking."

"Like I said, Doc Ramirez is a tank. It was worth the risk." Colby leaned against the table and stared at him. "So ... what happened to your face?"

"My face? Is there something?"

Colby snorted and crossed his arms. "No, but you look like there should be something."

"Apparently, math can pack quite a punch."

"What?"

David pinched the bridge of his nose. "Charlie didn't take the news well that I found Don but allowed Agent Paul to take him into custody."

"You told him that he doesn't remember anything?"

"Sure," David answered and then chuckled, "but do you really think that little piece of information mattered more than that he couldn't see him?"

"No." Colby shock his head.

"I'm just happy that Alan isn't in town. I don't think I would have been able to keep him from marching straight to Don."

They shared a rueful smile.

Nikki opened the door without knocking. "You guys? Bradford is here. He wants to know how Don likes his coffee."

David put his cup of coffee down, the weight of the world dragging him down. "I'm coming."

Colby wrestled himself up. He clapped David on his back. "We are coming."

Allowing a small smile, David agreed. "Yes, we are coming." With a last meaningful look, he marched forward. By the time he reached the door, nothing of the former weariness was visible anymore.

David beckoned Nikki to follow Colby as he closed the door.

* * *

 _TBC_


	17. Interrogation II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for your reviews and kind words._ _I hope you all enjoy reading. In a few chapters, we will get back to Zoe._

* * *

 **INTERROGATION II**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 19:00 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David stared through the mirror, wrestling against the urge to storm into the room.

He felt Colby shifting beside him. Agent Paul looked pleased with herself as she regarded the same scene through the mirror.

Agent Andrew's slight shift from relaxed to alert gave the first hint. Then Bradford opened the door to the interrogation room and entered with a cup of coffee and a sandwich balanced on a tablet. Andrew glanced shortly to his charge and then wandered over to Bradford to help him.

Don, or John Smith, raised his head but he didn't turn around.

"Thank you, Agent Andrew." Bradford smiled tightly. "That will be all."

Agent Andrew regarded first Bradford and then the mirror.

John Smith sat impassive and still. His eyes were tracking something. David followed his gaze and had to smile. Only Don would know where to look.

"He knows where the reflections are," Colby commented as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Oh, and I'll need a key." The speaker picked up Dr. Bradford's voice as he held out his hand to Agent Andrew.

"Key, sir?"

"Yes, your handcuff key."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Bradford just kept holding his hand out, silent and still until Agent Andrew handed him a key. After he had left the room, Bradford circled the table and sat down opposite to Don.

"I don't know how John Smith takes his coffee, but I know you're addicted to this stuff."

Don kept silent.

"My name is Dr. Bradford. I am a police psychologist. I am here to determine how much and what you remember."

"Then good luck to you," Don murmured as he eyed the coffee.

Bradford followed his line of sight. He slid the cup over to Don. "Take it. It's yours."

Nobody said a word until he took the cup and took a small sip. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dr. Bradford leaned back in his seat. "Let's start easy: who are you?"

"Me."

"Fair answer. And what's your name?"

Don snorted. "You don't know? I am pretty sure that it is written down on my ID card. And my ID was with my last two dollars in the right pocket of my jeans. There was also a handkerchief and my gloves. Now all of it is in one of your paper bags." He shot him an annoyed look and drank his coffee. "You could go looking for it."

"Ah, deflection and sarcasm, how I missed it. You haven't changed much."

He drank the last sip coffee and put the cup down with more force than necessary. "John Smith."

"Do you want another cup?"

Colby was already moving before Bradford had finished asking.

Don gave a little shrug. "It's good coffee. And apparently, you know how I like it."

Andrew brought in the new cup.

Bradford opened an empty notepad and took his pen. He wrote down something. David guessed it would be the name Don had given.

"A name is like an envelope to give our personality and identity a form. It's part of our identity, but it is not who we are. That's the reason why a pseudonym and stage names work. So, your name is John Smith. What does this name say about you?"

Don straightened up. "Listen, I am not interested in your stuff, okay? The lady said I am a witness for something, but I don't remember anything. I don't care about your psycho-stuff and whatever gets you out of the bed in the morning. Either charge me with something or let me go."

Bradford smiled. "Ah, there is the anger. I kind of missed that, too. You wouldn't be you without the anger. So let's talk about your notebook."

Don pressed his lips together and didn't say anything.

"It's an interesting book, full of high quality drawings. Why did you draw it?"

"Why can't you just let me go? Whatever I did, it can't have been recently, and I'm not likely to do it again, so why can't you just let me go?"

"Because whether you realize it or not, you are an important witness. The moment we let you go like you wish, you're going to be dead."

"Fine, then why don't you tell me what I witnessed."

"You have to remember yourself."

Don snorted. Shaking his head, he rubbed at his forehead.

Bradford pushed the sandwich box towards Don, who reluctantly grabbed it and took a bite.

"I need to talk to Bradford," Charlie suddenly said.

Everybody in the room stared at him. He wasn't supposed to be here.

David looked further and found an innocent looking Nikki next to the door. Of course.

With an eager expression, he explained. "Game theory. Don used the tit for tat strategy once. It might help here."

Liz pointed to the monitor board. "Just press the button, Dr. Bradford will hear you through his earpiece."

David glanced to Agent Paul, surprised that she'd kept silent.

Charlie nodded. "Dr. Bradford, you should use the game theory tactic tit for tat. If you give him a small piece of information, he's more likely to reciprocate. Over time, you'll be able to -"

Bradford pointedly removed his earpiece from his ear. He gave a scolding look to the agents in the room.

David had to smile. Both brothers, Don in front of the mirror and Charlie behind the mirror, wore similar expressions of befuddlement.

After he had made his point about unwanted interruption, Dr. Bradford returned his focus to Don. "What is the first clear memory that you have?"

Don shrugged one shoulder.

Bradford smiled. "Okay, if you're not interested in doing this right now, we can postpone this to tomorrow. I have time. I will go home to my wife and daughter. Maybe watch her new favorite show. Then I will go to bed next to my wife. And after a good night's sleep, I will have breakfast with my family. Maybe my brother will come over and we'll work on the crossword together. After saying goodbye and kissing my family, I will come here where you will have spent the evening alone in a small room, and we can start this all over again."

Don took a deep breath and stared at Dr. Bradford with cold eyes. "You're a bastard."

"Ah, there's the spirit. You may not remember, but family was always an important point for you."

"Yeah?" How could one word carry so much emotion: hurt, hope, desperation, and fear?

"You still have family and like mine waits for me, they wait for you." Don searched Dr. Bradford's face until he suddenly looked away.

He looked devastated as he stared down. "I don't remember."

"I think you remember far more than you realize. You defended your notebook with everything you have, because you know that it contains your family and your memories."

"And look where that got me." He rattled pointedly the handcuff that tethered his left hand to a ring on the top of the table.

"It's not the fact that you defended it that got you on the security risk list, but the way how you went about it." Bradford pointed out. "But it is actually a good thing."

"It is? From my point of view, this is a bad thing."

"The brain is a fascinating thing. You may be unclear about your memories, but your personality is still the same. You were always explosive and passionate."

Don moved his hand up and down the chair arm. "How do you know me?" he asked, his gaze again downwards.

"We were forced to talk to each other, or rather, you were forced to talk to me."

"And there you got to know me?" Don raised his eyebrows and pointed at the empty sandwich box. "Apparently, you don't know everything. If my personality hasn't changed, then you'd know I'm not a fan of turkey. You know me so well, bring me something I actually like."

Bradford leaned back. "Food hasn't been a topic before."

"Rib-eye." Everybody jerked as the voice sounded suddenly over the intercom. "You like rib-eye."

David grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled it away from the keyboard. "Charlie! Are you-" David didn't really know what to say. Then again, the look Agent Paul and Dr. Bradford gave him was quite enough.

"I just wanted to help," Charlie stated stubbornly and crossed his arms. "He really would prefer a rib-eye steak over almost anything."

"Charlie ..." David trailed off because the conversation in the room had recaptured his interest.

"Who was that?"

"One of our consultants."

Don stared at the mirror before he hesitantly asked, "Do I know him?"

Now it was Bradford's turn to look pensive. "What do you think?"

Don laughed and shook his head. "No."

"No, what?"

"It's just ... is he the math guy? Or has something to do with math?" Suddenly, he snapped with his fingers. "He's the guy from the parking lot, right?"

"What would you say if I told you that you're right on all accounts?" Bradford and everybody else watched as Don stilled. "Why do you associate math with his voice?"

"I don't know... it's just that sometimes, okay often, if I see something I hear this voice," he looked down. "Yeah, I hear voices. It's great for your witness thing, right?"

"Medically speaking, I think you're remembering rather than hearing voices. But what do you hear?"

"Math stuff. When I'm up on the scaffold, I remember a guy with curly hair telling me about distance, speed, wind, and probability. I always thought that he was responsible for the math in my head, but maybe..."

David glanced at Charlie. He had tears in his eyes.

"He is our math consultant. And yes, you know him."

The silence stretched through the interrogation room to the observation room. Only Charlie's breathing with his emotion was audible.

"I can tell you more about it after we've established a clear idea of what memory you already have."

Nothing.

"Okay, then I'll go home and come back tomorrow." Bradford stood up. He gathered the garbage and turned to leave the room.

He was already opening the door as Don spoke. The room was equipped with the newest technology, but even these microphones had trouble picking up his voice, so quietly he spoke.

"I remember waking up in the hospital. Everything hurt, and I was cuffed to the bed – like now – and there were these detectives. They asked questions, always questions. They never let me sleep. Whenever I opened my eyes, they were there. They told me that I would go to jail for the rest of my life and that this was my chance to reduce my sentence. But I didn't know anything. They told me they would personally ensure that I would get the maximum sentence if I didn't start to cooperate. They told me that they had witnesses, but I didn't know what they could have witnessed."

Don's eyes shimmered. He laid his free right hand over his eyes, hiding.

David looked around. Liz stared with a furious expression at the glass. Colby had his arms crossed and stared at the floor. David didn't know if he remembered his own experience with the other side of law enforcement or if he wanted to give Don privacy like he had done in the hospital.

Then his gaze wandered to Charlie. David couldn't look in his head, but he suspected a lot of numbers running through it. Outwardly, he appeared to be shocked.

"What is he doing?" Agent Paul interrupted David's train of thought.

David looked through the mirror again to see that Bradford used his keys to free Don.

"He was cuffed for a reason." She whirled around and marched out of the room, her intent clear. David couldn't begrudge her for it. If he made a mistake with Don, then it could be excused because he was a friend. But because he was a friend, he wasn't allowed to run this investigation. Agent Paul was supposed to be objective and neutral; she would pay for a mistake with her career.

Dejected, he turned back to the mirror. But Paul didn't enter the room.

Nobody interrupted Bradford and Don, who had quietly continued their conversation. Before he could follow the content again, Agent Paul returned with a careful mask on her face.

David opened his mouth to ask as Assistant Director Wright entered the room behind her. David closed his mouth again.

Nobody said a word in the room as all settled to watch the interview.

"So this Dr. McLaren helped you out with the hospital bill and the police. And she found you a lawyer to help with the court to gain a new name."

Don nodded. "I now have an official name, but three bills to pay. I can't even rent an apartment because I am not creditworthy."

"So how did you spend the last six months?"

"Trying to figure out what to do, finding shelter and food, and then trying to find a job and income to pay the bills and continue to live."

"How many times did you try to find out who you are?"

"At the beginning, it was the most important thing, but after not even the police could identify me, I had to try to move forward, because let's face it: nobody missed me."

"You are missed." Bradford carefully announced.

"Yeah, by whom? The FBI because I am their precious witness?" Don may not remember who he was, but Bradford was right, the personality still matched.

"No, by your family."

Don's face reflected the hurt and pain he surely felt. "Then why wasn't I in missing persons? Why did nobody search for me?"

Bradford spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know what went wrong. But I can assure you that everyone searched for you. Even with the help of math and astrophysics."

"Astrophysics?"

"Did you draw those things in the notebook?" Bradford ignored the question and asked one of his own.

David realized what Dr. Bradford was doing. He was keeping Don unsettled by switching topics, but David wasn't sure that this was a good tactic in this case.

"Are you going to use them against me?"

"What should we use against you?"

"Those guys were hurt." He shrugged. "I don't know anything about this. I just dream about this woman. And she's so afraid, and I can't help her."

"So you draw what dream?"

"Yes. No. These images, they're always in my head. In the nightmare, they're just in Technicolor and with sound effects. But I don't know anything. And I don't know what these drawings have to do with anything." Exhausted, Don stared at Bradford. David shook his head.

"I don't deny that these images going to have an impact, but not in the way you fear."

"What pictures are we talking?" Colby asked.

"Besides the clear-cut drawings of Steven Twist and Sergey Kirkan, Don also drew the attack in several detailed drawings, including Robin's fear and their fight for their lives." Liz answered while she still stared straight ahead. "If you want to convince a jury, these are your tools, because they hurt just to look at."

"Oh." Colby didn't say anything else.

"Has anyone informed Assistant Attorney Brooks and Alan Eppes that we have found Don?" ADIC Wright asked, suddenly joining the conversation.

David shared a guilty look with Charlie. "Um, up until a few minutes ago, we weren't sure that this was Don. We held off on informing Ms. Brooks and Mr. Eppes."

Director Wright just raised an eyebrow. "They should be informed as fast as possible. I don't want them getting this information from the news."

"Robin might still be in surgery, and my Dad is out of town. He needed to get way from all this," Charlie said.

"Ms. Brooks had surgery?"

"Yes, I am sure her security detail knew."

"Then inform her after her surgery." The tone of his voice made it clear that he considered it an obvious thing. "Mr. Eppes also needs to be informed. I don't want him in front of my building demanding impossible things, but he has a right to be informed, and you have a duty to do it."

He fixed every agent in the room with a hard stare. "And I think that both of them would prefer the news from a friendly face."

David looked down. If the animosity between the agents on this floor had already made the way up to ADIC Wright, they had a problem.

"Director Wright," Agent Paul interrupted the loud silence. "How long can we keep this quiet from the media?"

"How many people in this city have seen Eppes and the FBI in the same room? They may not recognize him out of context, but together with the FBI, it is a given fact that it won't be long until somebody makes the connection."

"Yes, sir." Agent Paul answered. She appeared neither surprised nor shocked about this news.

David returned his focus back to Bradford and Don, who were still talking. He gave Liz, who had continued to listen, a querying look.

"They're talking about the consequences of the overdose and how it affected his memory."

Bradford looked at Don with a reassuring smile. "So the prognosis is pretty good. With enough sleep and food and rest, you have every chance that your brain will recover."

"Recover, hmm? And how am I supposed to do all this? Rest and sleep and eat? I need to work to have something to eat, and I can't sleep because of the dreams, and rest, what is rest?"

"You won't have to worry about this."

"Right, after you have whatever you want from me, I will go back to nothing. Somebody else will have stolen everything that I own, and I can go back to the shelter until I find a new place to stay. Oh, and let's not forget the whole I-got-to-find-a-job thing without even a name. I have bills to pay and-"

Bradford held up his hand. "You have a name and an identity. You have insurance, and you have friends who will do all this for you. You need to rest to remember this."

Pause.

"Then what is my name? I mean what is the envelope I am supposed to remember?"

Bradford hesitated for a moment. "Don Eppes."

Neither ADIC Wright nor Agent Paul seemed surprised that he revealed it. David could only assume that they had talked beforehand about it.

"Don Eppes? You mean that famous missing FBI agent? Just because I looked a little like him? How stupid do you think I am?" With his raised voice, he also started to stand up.

"Careful," Dr. Bradford murmured making a calming motion. "Sit down!" He pointed to the chair.

David held his breath. Colby grabbed the door knob to run out at a moment's notice. Liz and Nikki stood directly behind him. But Don relaxed and leaned back to show his compliance.

Relieved, David closed his eyes while Colby stepped back.

In the interrogation room, Bradford gave Don a pointed look. "Rest, sleep, and eat, and you will remember."

Don grabbed his head and massaged it.

"I can have your prescription filled. Dr. Ramirez-"

"No drugs! I don't take drugs." Whispering, he added, "They destroyed enough already."

Leaning back, Bradford regarded Don steadily. He then picked up his notepad. "I think we are done for now. You need your rest, and if you won't take your prescription, then you need sleep."

"Wait!" Don held up his hand, but remained sitting.

He waited until Bradford stopped his rummaging and looked at him. "This math guy ... your consultant, the math professor ... If he is the guy I keep remembering, how do I know him?"

Bradford paused and considered the question.

"Come on man, I told you everything I could think of. I don't know what else you could possibly want."

"He is your brother."

"Brother." Don repeated the word as if he tasted something new. "Can I see him? Talk to him?"

Bradford climbed to his feet. It may not have been as emotionally draining as it had to be for Don, but he also wasn't brim-full of energy.

"I'll see what I can do." He gave Don a small smile. "I am tired and so are you. Let's see what we can do about this. And food – if you want to recover your memories, you need to eat more than that tiny sandwich."

"Dr. Bradford?"

He had already reached the door. "Yes?"

"I would really like to see him."

Bradford nodded before he left the room.

* * *

 _TBC_


	18. Decisions

_A/N I can't thank guest reviewers directly, so I'm putting this up here: thank you both for your reviews!_

 _Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **DECISIONS**

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 20:15 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

Agent Paul was already moving before the door had completely shut. "Andrew, get in there and don't leave!" She ordered her agent, who promptly reached the door before it closed.

Bradford took his time until he entered the observation room. "You need to give him some privacy. As long as he is under constant surveillance, he will not be able to let his mind wander."

"Oh, yeah? I need to make sure that he doesn't run or fall dead to the floor on my watch. I can only do this if I actually do some watching," Paul argued. "And Dr. Bradford, the decision whether a man in custody remains cuffed or not is made by the agent in charge or the nearest agent, and not the police psychologist."

"If you don't start to build up a little trust with him now, how do you expect to ensure his safety in the next few days?"

"This is the FBI building. We have perfectly working cells."

She hadn't even finished the sentence as a storm of protest erupted in the room. Charlie was the loudest with words, but Nikki and Colby entered the fray with their presence and body language.

"No way." Colby's words cut through the shouted chaos.

"Silence!" ADIC Wright interrupted before the conversation could get out of hand. "Agent Paul, explain yourself."

"It's the most secure place. Nobody gets into the building, and he can't get out to get himself killed. Everybody is safe. He will get enough food and sleep and rest, and if he starts to remember we can relocate to a hotel. Then it's also possible to call in the Marshall service to take over the protection detail, or he can join his girlfriend Ms. Brooks who still has her detail."

Charlie shook his head.

Dr. Bradford raised his hand. "Medically speaking, this is a very bad idea, because a prison cell is the opposite of a restful place. It's highly stressful. Not only because it is locked and there is no freedom, not even for the most basic things, but also because the plain wall and silence forces the brain to hyper stimulation to make up for the missing visual and audible input.

"Studies have shown healing improves just by having a window to nature. If you want to speed up his recovery, he needs to get in or at least be near the outdoors, not in a concrete prison with unnatural light."

Agent Paul rubbed her eyes.

David tried to bring his thoughts in order. It was late evening, and he hadn't had a break in over twelve hours. He was emotionally exhausted. But he needed a good suggestion, prompting him to send a prayer to a God he wasn't sure he believed in anymore.

"What about a safe house? We could set him up in Charlie's house. It would be familiar and relaxing, and we could put agents outside-"

Paul interrupted him. "Forget it! Flynn would not even have to work to find him. How many agents do you want to lose in the resulting war?" She glared at him, raising herself up to a fight stance.

"I would also veto this idea," Dr. Bradford said, "because it will not be relaxing. Having something familiar without being able to identify it causes more stress. The relaxing part is because of the good memories associated with something. If he has no memories but knows that he should have, it has the opposite effect."

"What about a safe house somewhere near nature? We already have something suitable, it is easily protected and has everything we need." Colby proposed.

"You'll still have a problem," Bradford started.

Paul swirled around and glared at him. "What now?"

Bradford continued as if she hasn't spoken. It took a lot more for him to lose his patience. No wonder Don hadn't been able to brush him off. "Constant surveillance. Regardless of your actual reasons for watching him, he'll see it as mistrust, and you'll prevent any progress being made."

The room was silent as everybody waited for the explanation. For a moment, David expected Charlie to speak up but he couldn't even see him.

"As long as he knows or believes that you watch him, he will guard his emotions and reactions. It's natural, and it's a strong trait in him."

"High emotion is something that every agent protecting other people constantly sees. We can deal with it." Agent Paul argued.

"He is not going to allow any memory to surface if he is afraid to cry in front of a stranger. And honestly, you are a seasoned agent who knows how hard a sudden memory can hit you. Would you risk this in front of others?"

David looked down as Bradford challenged Paul. Colby already had the right reaction.

Paul's silence was answer enough.

"What about a safe house with electronic surveillance? We leave him in his room or floor alone. We protect him from the outside and on the ground floor. If we choose the safe house carefully, it could work."

"And what kind of electronic surveillance do you have in mind that fulfills Dr. Bradford's requirements and also keeps us in command? Because in case that you missed this part, this man," Agent Paul pointed without looking at the glass, "doesn't want our protection."

"Maybe an ankle monitor? It's a proven method and leaves him alone."

Everybody looked at each other, but nobody vetoed the idea.

ADIC Wright nodded. "I realize that this is the most elaborate set-up, but we need his memory as badly as we need to protect him. If AUSA Meeks enters the notebook as evidence, the defense will get Eppes in the witness stand. We need to prepare for this possibility. He already-"

"What is he trying to do?" Liz suddenly called out and stormed to the door.

David looked up to the mirror. Charlie was opening the door behind Agent Andrew's back. He cursed and joined Liz in her haste to prevent Charlie from fully entering.

Of course, Charlie wouldn't wait but they were fast enough.

* * *

 **Wed, Sept 23 - 23:00 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

Joe Flynn sat wearily down on his bed. It had been a long day, too long for his old body. The men had called and confessed that they had lost the car that had left the FBI headquarters. They couldn't be sure if it had been carrying Don Eppes, but it didn't matter. They had lost the trail to him.

He was supposed to be angry, to demand results, to jump around and utter threats, but he was too weary for all of this. He could not fault them for losing to a system that was designed to throw them off track.

His head weighed a ton, and he used his arms to support it.

Light steps danced across the floor.

He smelled her perfume before he saw her feet. As his wife sat carefully down beside him, he looked up.

In her hands, she held a folded piece of paper. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she offered it to him.

"What is this?" He took the paper and opened it up.

"It's an address." She kept her gaze down. "That's where you'll find Don Eppes."

Flynn looked sharply at his wife. "What?"

She laughed without humor in her voice. "You have friends in the underworld, I have friends in the upper world. If a large caravan of cars suddenly arrives in a gated community, and a house that has sat empty for months is suddenly refitted with security cameras late in the day, and the gate guard is told not to ask questions, you know that this will be a highly popular topic of discussion."

"Are you sure?"

"They were glued to the windows and monitors of their own surveillance systems; she is sure she saw Don Eppes."

Joe Flynn fingered carefully the paper. It contained an address written in the beautiful handwriting of his wife.

"If you use this, they will be able to connect you to it." She said without looking up.

"They will also able to connect you to it, because your friend is going to tell the FBI in the same careless manner she had told you all of this," Joe remarked.

"I know."

"Doris," Joe turned to his wife, "do you understand what this means?"

She looked up, and for the first time in months he looked at her, really looked at her. She was still beautiful and graceful, but the laugh lines around her eyes had given way to the worry lines on her forehead.

"It means that this has to stop. You have to stop. It doesn't matter if your men manage to kill Don Eppes or not, they will come and get you. It's over."

"I don't care," he said hotly, lost energy suddenly pumping through his veins again. "I don't care, they killed Matthew!"

"But I do care!" His wife countered. "I do care because I have already lost my son, and I don't want to lose my husband, too!"

"Then why did you give me the address?" He forced himself to sit down again. He wouldn't get into an argument with his wife.

"Because I respect you. I will not protect you from yourself. You have to come to a decision." Doris also sat down. "I wish I could have given you more children, but-"

"Stop. This isn't about that. This is about the feds that killed my son, the son I had."

"And now? Did you have your revenge? Was it worth it that you now have to do whatever it takes? That you now fear the FBI, the DEA, and whoever you paid to kill them?"

"I wanted other people to feel the same pain I felt." He turned his face toward her so she could see his true emotion. "And it worked. Whenever I find a shirt from Matthew that he will never wear again, I think about the widow of Martin Ward or Robin Brooks and how they suffer. This helps," he insisted.

Doris Flynn pressed a finger lightly to her eye as if she could turn off tears. "Really? How can something help that is the opposite of everything that Matthew stood for? You always kept him out of your drug dealings."

Joe looked up sharply at his wife.

"What? I always knew that it wasn't your shipping company that made the money. Or at least not the legal part of the shipping company." She played with the diamond ring on her ring finger. "I knew that as you told me about your plan to avenge his death, you weren't talking about lawyers and suing like you did in front of the cameras and in front of your lawyers. I always knew you meant to use men you'd never allow to enter my house."

Joe looked down again at his hands. They revealed his real age. He had washed off the blood, but it remained on his soul.

"You warned me about all of this. I had my revenge, but in the end it was my own downfall. I just don't know if I care enough to prevent it anymore. If I can take the last sweet victory, it may be enough."

"But do you think going after Don Eppes is the right way? He has nothing to do with Matthews's death. He didn't even know anything about it."

Flynn looked up to his wife of almost forty years. "It wasn't planned like this, but it was a golden opportunity. If those stupid idiots had done their job right, none of this would have happened."

Doris shook her head. "They've done their job right. It wasn't meant to be. Don Eppes survived despite everything. That wasn't your decision to make."

"If he continues to survive, he will ruin me."

"You ruined yourself by choosing revenge."

"You just gave me a new address," Joe Flynn countered.

"Six months ago, I also knew for five days and nights where Agent Eppes was. I hadn't told anybody. If I can't make my case with you, why should I bother with anybody else? And besides, he was my son, too. Maybe I also was desperate for justice, just not revenge." Doris stood up. "Think about what you want to give up for your revenge."

"Everything."

"Including me?"

Joe Flynn kept silent.

* * *

 _TBC_

 _A/N Charlie needs to wait a little longer until he can talk to his brother. Don needs some sleep first._


	19. Beach House

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for your reviews!_

* * *

 **BEACH HOUSE**

* * *

 **Thu, Sept 24 - 08:30 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Charlie was completely lost in his math. Math was his haven, safe and secure. Here he understood motivation, signals, and symbols.

He wrote the next batch of numbers.

There was a unit guarding the premises out front, and Agent Shore was set up inside. Charlie was safe, and he could do his math without any worry in the world. They had found his brother, and his father was on the way home. Everything would be good again.

"Charles?"

Adrenaline shot through his veins. Charlie whirled around to the sudden voice, dropping his chalk.

Bending down to retrieve it, he started to calm down as he recognized the voice.

"Larry, you startled me," he said as he was upright again.

Behind Larry, Amita's worried face appeared in the garage.

"Amita? What are you doing here?"

"We were worried. We find a location, you drive off, and then we don't hear anything else. If Liz hadn't called and told us that you'd found Don, we would have thought that you had been taken. You didn't call, you didn't come home, and I only knew that you were here because I called David." Amita entered the garage and let her gaze sweep over his math.

"What happened?" Larry asked. "Your father has called me at least a dozen times, and I couldn't answer a single one of his questions. And now I find you in your house guarded by the FBI, and I still don't have any answers."

Charlie rubbed at his forehead, completely oblivious about the chalk he smeared there. "Larry, can't this wait? I am in the middle of an important line of thought. I need to write this down before I forget what it was."

Larry sat down on the only chair in the garage. "Oh, Charles."

"This isn't our network analysis about Flynn Logistics." Amita pointed to the boards.

"Yes, now that we have found my brother, I have a lot to catch up on, and this is important." Charlie started to let his thoughts flow again. Couldn't they see how important it was?

Amita stepped up in his personal space. "Just - wait. I ... I wanted to apologize for not believing you about Don."

Charlie knew that he had to push the numbers back and concentrate on his girlfriend. With great effort, he stopped writing down the numbers.

He gave her smile. "It's okay. The probability that Don would live on his own with memory loss was slim to none. It doesn't fit any pattern. It's like everyone decided to act with no regard to precedent."

"I, too, apologize for my reluctance to keep an open mind about this possibility," Larry added from his chair. "But if you would allow me to ask a question: why are you here instead of with your brother?"

Charlie clenched his fists so hard that the chalk broke in several pieces. "You know," he started to pace, "he can't remember me. He remembers a math guy who follows him everywhere and tells him numbers and what he does wrong, but not me." He looked over his boards. "Or maybe this is the only thing that is memorable about me."

"If he remembers your math, then he remembers you."

"Yeah," Charlie turned around. "I just would have liked if he remembered me as his brother and not as the math guy."

"Charlie," Amita said, "he dreamed about and wrote down your math in great detail. Not any old equation, but your personal math, parts of your Convergence Emergence Theory. Do you understand what this means? It means that he has been paying attention to all of your math, despite his outward bored expression. He listened to you. He even remembered when he had nothing else to remember. If this isn't a sign of brotherly love, I don't know what is."

He thought it over. She had a point. It was his math; without it, they would have continued to live in the same city and never met each other again.

Amita laughed and hit him playfully in the shoulder. "Besides, what do you and Don do together that is not in some way related to math? I'm pretty sure that even if you two go hiking together, you will use math to predict the route, the weather, the count of steps... "

Charlie held up his hand. "I get the picture. Everything is math with me..." Sighing, he looked downwards.

Larry and Amita kept silent. Couldn't they see that he wanted to be more than the math guy?

"How did Robin take the news?" Amita asked as the silence threatened to become uncomfortable.

Charlie gave them a big smile. "By trying to get out of the hospital as fast as possible." His smile grew. "Dad always had hoped that she would rub off on Don and not Don on her. But she has to stay at least another night to give the incision a chance to heal and for her to feel better. She didn't tolerate the anesthesia well."

"And Alan? How did he take the news?" Amita asked and drew Charlie nearer into a hug.

"Dad is beside himself. The weather is delaying his return. So be prepared to hear that he never should have left."

"That is an expected reaction." Larry clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "But how is your brother?"

Charlie freed himself from Amita's hug. "I don't know. I just saw him for a minute or so before we were separated again." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We didn't even say anything." He really wished he could forget the meeting.

"He didn't recognize you." Amita determined. "Did he recognize anybody else?"

Charlie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Did he have an impression of David or any of the other agents? Like loyal, stubborn, or exact? He associated you with math. Did he-"

"No," Charlie looked up. "No, he didn't recognize anybody. Not even Dr. Bradford. He only said that he thinks of me as the math guy."

"Charles," Larry took a step nearer to Charlie, "I'd like to remind you that you are the only familiar face Don has right now. You are the only family near. Maybe you should postpone the preparation of your next CalSci lecture and instead spend time with Don so he may remember more of you."

"You're right." He threw down the last remaining piece of chalk and turned to the door. He had already reached the door frame as he stopped. "But how do I get to him? The FBI drove him away and want to keep him under wraps. Or protection, or whatever."

Amita bent down and picked up the pieces of chalk. Holding the longest piece, she pointed out, "Like you get always to the FBI: by using math. I am sure that Agent Paul's desire to get Flynn will be stronger than her distaste for using math in the FBI."

Charlie gave his girlfriend a quick kiss and ran out of the door.

He was almost out of earshot as he heard Larry remarking, "On behalf of young Charles, let me thank you, Amita, for your proposition."

Amita's laughter followed him into the kitchen and to Agent Shore.

* * *

 **Thu, Sept 24 - 09:30 - Beach House, Los Angeles**

"Here we are." Colby stopped the car near the front of a two-story house.

"This is an FBI safe house? It's a villa." David stared at the tasteful front garden and the white fence that led directly to the dunes. He could only assume that the beach started right behind it.

"Only the best for our witnesses." Colby grouched and got out of the car. "In this case," he said across the car roof, "I actually agree."

"Yeah, me too."

"So how went your conversation with Mr. Eppes?" Colby asked as they took the long route around the neighborhood to become familiar with the surroundings.

"Alan. It's Alan." David remained silent for a moment, unwilling to share the private moments of joy that not even a telephone line could contain. "He..." David shrugged, "I don't think that anybody has a clue what to do or to think. I mean come on, we have Don alive and whole, but he doesn't trust us and wants to get away from us to the point that we have to ..." David threw his hands up in frustration.

"I dreamed of the day when we would find Don. Sometimes I even had allowed myself a little hope. But I never thought about what came next. It was either all good or all sad. But this ... We have him, and yet we haven't gotten him back."

"I'm sure that Professor Fleinhart would have a nice little example about the universe and how it all relates to us." Colby let his gaze wander across the sky.

"Did you hear anything like this?"

"No. Charlie stayed in the hospital with Robin. He just slept there."

"For real?"

"Yeah, I think it did both of them good. I called in the request to get Charlie his own detail until we get Flynn, either because Don remembers or we use the notebook."

The sea breeze drifted through the gardens. It was a beautiful little patch of land. David and Colby enjoyed the brisk morning walk.

"Man, I could totally live here."

"Sure, until you do and then start complaining about the solitude and that nothing ever happens and that the trip is too long, that the prices are too high-"

Colby held up his hand. "I get the picture. And deny it. Because it's the perfect mix of Not LA and Not Afghanistan." They halted near the little harbor and looked over the little ships wobbling on the water. "It's just peaceful."

David agreed but didn't voice it because it would have ruined their peaceful moment. He knew he had a difficult job to do, but the full night's sleep as Director Wright had ordered and now this view did wonders for his morale.

"What is actually in the notebook that got Don to freak out?" Colby asked in the silence and shattered the precious peace. "I saw the copies of the math and the copies of the attack on him and Robin, but I don't think that's enough."

David kept his gaze firmly locked on the horizon. "It isn't enough? A drawing with perfect detail down to an accurate depiction of the gunshot wounds is not enough to be afraid of the police finding it?"

"No, it's not enough for Don to freak out." Colby glanced his way. "Yeah, I know he is currently not himself, but seriously, if you think about it, he is still the same man."

"Is he?" David would love to see the same thing Colby apparently saw.

"Come on, who is the first to go off against another agent like he did with Paul? Remember the LAPD guy, or the CIA agent or -"

"I get it." David lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. "One minute you think he's starting to laugh about how good he got us and the next moment, you don't recognize the man in front of you," he confessed.

"Yeah." Colby pushed off the fence. "So what about the notebook?"

David stiffened. "It's personal."

"As if anything is ever personal after we get involved."

"This is exactly the reason why he tried to protect it."

Colby glanced his way. A jogger went by and Colby started to stretch. The jogger went by the private harbor and the little industry harbor right next to it. It was a small labyrinth filled with little sheds and containers.

"I don't think you can fool anybody that you're here for sport."

"I can always go out and surf."

David countered: "Without a board?"

"You aren't going to answer my question, are you?"

"Let's say it like this, forty years ago some of the drawing of Robin would have interested the vice squad or make them blush."

Colby's blank face morphed into recognition and turned away. "Oh."

"Oh, is right. I don't think they were meant for anybody to see. He just had to draw it so he wouldn't forget." David grabbed Colby's arm and turned him around. "No word to anybody. It's his privacy, and as long as we don't have to-"

Colby made a zipping motion with his fingers over his mouth. "I know nothing about the notebook except that it details the original attack."

David gave him a small smile of thanks. His trust had been rightly placed.

He turned back to the water searching for the memory of peace.

"You ready to go in and face him?"

"No, but I'd rather go in myself than let Agent Paul."

Colby laughed as they circled back to the white beach house with blue beams and blue roof. "It was great to see Director Wright telling her off. I mean she just wanted to keep us away from protective duty because we wouldn't be able to shoot him if it would be necessary."

David joined in the laughter even as a little voice told him that she was right. "Yeah, and Director Wright then just looked and said 'This is the whole point of protection detail, that nobody gets shot'."

They both kept silent the rest of the way. Despite using the trail along the beach, they made good time and arrived at the beach side of the safe house few minutes later.

On the seaside, the house had a patio and a balcony. The whole premise was fenced in with an electronic fence.

"Agent Sinclair and Agent Granger." A voice with Texan drawl sounded from one of the deckchairs. "Gated community, state-of-the-art technology, and plenty of backup, this is how I don't mind pulling boring protection detail."

"Phillips, you want to tell me again that there is something more boring than paperwork? You don't enjoy cheap hotels and even cheaper food?"

The man stood up to tower over them. "Not this time. This time there is more than enough food and this house," he pointed behind him, "it's unbelievable. The bath alone." He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial tone and came nearer. "I would never get my wife out of there."

With a normal voice, he returned to his FBI persona. "What's the plan?"

"We are here in addition to you guys. We set things up pretty quickly last night, so I want to make sure it's all good. Agents Warner and Granger will remain after I return to LA."

Agent Phillips stopped in front of the number pad to enter the pass code. He frowned. "I didn't think a full detail is necessary."

"Flynn has a lot to lose if Don remembers the attack, and he has even more to gain from Don's death. Every instinct points to an attack," Colby answered as they entered a kitchen that was so big almost David's whole apartment could have fit in.

"So we're expecting an attack?" Agent Philipps closed the patio door behind them.

"Sadly yes. Ideally, Don will remember before that happens, but I think it's just a matter of time."

Phillips nodded. "I think you need to run him through the rules of the ankle monitor again. Yesterday he was more or less asleep on his feet as we fitted it on." He handed both David and Colby a cup of coffee. Whispering, he added, "Between you and me, this isn't right." He gave them a pointed look they could only agree with and then went back outside.

The doorbell rang. Colby and David looked at each other, but Agent Mitchell, the second agent on duty, went to the door. Following the protocol, it took a long moment until Liz sauntered in the kitchen with two bags.

"Hi guys," she greeted as she put the bags down.

"What did you bring?" Colby asked.

David shot Colby a long-suffering look as circled around the kitchen bar. "Good morning, Liz. Anything?"

"No, the streets are clean, no strange cars, nothing. Agent Paul also hasn't heard anything concrete. Flynn is busy trying to find him."

"What did you bring?" Colby repeated his question.

With a big grin, Liz hefted the bags on the counter. "Clothes."

"Clothes?"

"Yeah, Don only has the ones he was wearing, and I thought he would probably feel better with clean stuff." She looked from one to the other. "Or did any of you bring something for him to wear?"

Colby bit his lip and looked down.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "No, we only brought a trunk full of weapons and ammo."

"Yeah, I also have the trunk full of stuff: night vision goggles, bullet proof vests, and so on." She pointed upstairs. "Is he already awake?"

"Following medical advice, we left Agent Eppes alone upstairs," Agent Mitchell entered the conversation. He still wore the high and tight from his Marines days. "Upstairs is completely electronically secured. If any window is broken or opened, an alarm will sound."

"Okay," Liz pointed to the coffee maker. "I need a cup of coffee, if I'm braving my way to the lion."

"Lion?"

"Don isn't himself without a lot of coffee. So I only will venture upstairs with coffee."

Sometimes it was good to have a lot of history with a teammate. This was one of those times. David glanced at Colby, who got Liz the coffee. Together, they watched Liz climbing upstairs.

Half an hour later, she and Don came back down.

Don was clad in dark blue jeans, white tee, and black sweater. Despite the simple dress, he looked normal.

"Did any of you have breakfast already?" Liz asked with carefully feigned cheeriness. "Because I am starving."

"Hmm," Colby pointed to David, "we had a quick snack on the way here."

"Good, then you can make us breakfast," Liz danced through the kitchen while Don stood back near the stairs, his back ramrod straight and pressed against the wall. David would have liked to know how Liz had convinced him to come down.

After a sweep through the kitchen, Liz spotted her target: a blender. With a look of joy on her face, she grabbed her prize and put it in front of David and Colby.

"So guys, show us what you can do."

"Do?" Colby looked confused at Liz.

While Liz explained to Colby in great detail how to make a smoothie, David kept Don in his line of sight. The more Liz talked, the more he relaxed. It made sense that he relaxed more around Liz. She provided an easy environment. David could help with that.

"Okay, let's do this."

"Oh yeah, as if you know how to make a smoothie." Colby answered.

David raised a suggestive eyebrow. "I know how to be smooth, that's the reason I date and you don't."

Colby grabbed the nearest fruit and mustered it. "I don't want to date a banana," he grouched, "or an orange."

"Of course not, but what about a kiwi? I only hear good things about New Zealand."

Colby send him a scorching look that promised payback for that comment. But it was worth it because as David looked behind Colby, Don sat at the counter.

And for the first time in six months, David saw it. It was faint, but he would take it: Don Eppes smiled.

* * *

 _TBC_


	20. Beach House II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for your reviews!_

* * *

 **BEACH HOUSE II**

* * *

 **Thu, Sept 24 - 10:15 - FBI office, Los Angeles**

"This is Agent Miller."

"Good morning, Agent Miller, this is Agent Sinclair." David said and sat down on his chair. The whole way back to the office, he had thought about whether to call him or not.

"Sinclair. Is there something new?"

"Yes." David took a deep breath. "We've found Don Eppes. Alive."

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then the timid question came over: "Alive?"

"Yes. I promised to call whenever there were new developments." David listened intently at the other end.

"Thank you." Agent Miller swallowed audible. "How did you -? Where- ?"

"I can't tell you anything more because we don't know anything more. I know that at the moment, we only have enough for the current trial and nothing new on the murder of your partner, but we are working on it."

"Can I do something?"

"No. I'm having enough trouble keeping my team attached to the very outer edge of this case." David leaned back and waited until his computer finished loading all the emails that had bombed his inbox. News traveled fast. He had emails from Terry and even Agent Billy Cooper.

"I understand," Agent Miller said. "If you need anything - more people, more anything, I am sure that the DEA will be able to provide everything necessary to get Flynn."

"Thanks for the offer," David answered.

After a short pause, Miller asked, "Why don't you have anything? If you have Eppes, surely he can tell you where and how Martin died? The evidence suggested that he had been present and therefore-"

"I am sorry, Agent Miller." David interrupted, "There are medical reasons why Agent Eppes is unable to help us out. I can't tell you more, I hope you understand."

"Sure. Of course, I understand. I promise you, your trust is not misplaced." The voice of Agent Miller carried a note of sincerity.

"Okay. If you hear anything about movement or new developments from your contacts about Flynn, you'll inform me?"

"Of course. You'll be the first to know."

They finished their conversation. David hoped that the lines of communication between two agents would stay clear even if the two agencies couldn't get along at a higher level. Only time would tell if their common desire to get Flynn was enough to trump inter-agency battles.

With a sigh, David returned to his reports, trying to find the one Nikki should have gotten him with all the information about John Smith, better known as Don Eppes.

* * *

 **Thu, Sept 24 - 11:00 - Beach House, Los Angeles**

Professor Eppes sauntered through the big hallway into the kitchen. This house was like a villa, reminding him of the old hallways of a respected university campus.

"Hi Charlie." Colby came out of the kitchen to greet him. "I see you managed yet again to talk an FBI agent into doing what you want." The smile prevented any misgivings about his words.

"Yeah, Agent Paul's desire to get Flynn is greater than her dislike for my math." Charlie had never liked to talk to that woman. She had made it pretty clear what she thought about his math, math in criminal investigations, and the involvement of family in her case.

"You here for Don or math?"

"Don." He had told Agent Paul a lot of things that he could possible calculate if he could just get a direct contact to his brother and his memory fragments until she relented. Possibly just to get him out of her hair. "I'd like to see him."

Colby pointed behind him. "I'll show you."

They went through the kitchen, where Colby threw him an orange 'for Don,' to the back entrance and out to the patio. In one of the deckchairs, another agent rested but Colby just winked them through.

Through the garden, they reached the gate to the beach.

"He is out there?"

"Yeah, we didn't really want to force him indoors as long as it isn't necessary." He pointed to the lone figure at the shore line. "You're welcome to remind him about the 300 meter rule." Colby stared at him pointedly, and Charlie got the feeling that there was a story behind his words.

Then Colby hung back as Charlie walked through the sand down to the shore. He didn't even know how to address his brother. Don or John? Why had he let himself be talked into this job?

The nearer the figure loomed, the slower he stepped forward.

"I am still in the 300 meter circle."

"Ahm, okay?" Charlie stopped next to him. "I was supposed to remind you about it, but seeing as you remember it yourself, it's, ah, good." He knew he was rambling but couldn't stop.

Don turned around and stared at him. "You're not FBI, right?"

Biting his lips, Charlie explained it again. "No, I work as a math consultant for the FBI. But I am not an agent."

He nodded despite his eyes turning dark. "Right. I knew that." He turned back to the ocean.

Charlie stood hesitantly a step behind him. "And I am your brother."

"Yeah, brother," Don repeated. He continued to stare out to the ocean. "Brother."

"Yeah, brother. We met yesterday at the FBI and the day before at CalSci. By the way, thank you for your help but I wished you'd stay. I ... I don't know -"

"I thought you're here to do your math." Don interrupted him.

"Everything is math," Charlie said without thought. "Everything I do is math."

"Right." Now Don turned back again. In the daylight, he looked even worse than yesterday in the FBI interview room. "So, can math find my missing memories?"

Charlie pondered the question. Memory was nothing more than the recollection of an event that took place, a firing of neurons in the correct order. It should be possible to determine what happened when and therefore restore the basis of the information that had been stored as memory in Don's head. "Given enough data, yes."

"Yes? How do you do that?" His face showed the doubt, but his voice burst from hope that he really could do it.

This was Charlie's chance to prove what math can do. It was his chance to actually help his brother, not with his cases but by being his brother.

"By recreating the basis that formed your memory. See the human brain..." He launched in a lengthy explanation of how it should be possible and how he would go about it.

He was already mapping the necessary equations in his head when he noticed that Don had returned his focus to the water.

"…and you aren't listening," he concluded.

Don turned to look at him. "No, but I hope you don't take offense. I can't follow you."

Charlie just smiled. "None taken." He paused suddenly unsure what to say. "Do you have any questions? Do you want to know something?"

Don kept silent for a long time. His gaze was firmly fixed on the horizon. The wind ruffled through his short hair. Charlie's brother had never really worn a beard, but this man wore stubble that just seemed to belong to him.

Out of the blue, he suddenly asked, "What would you tell me about me?" He glanced over his shoulder. "What is the most important thing about me that you would tell me?"

"Ahm," Charlie stumbled over his words. "You are an extraordinary FBI agent and-"

Don turned to face him completely. His eyes were full of fire. "Don't give me the same stupid line about being Don Eppes. I'm not one of them. No way!"

"Them?" Charlie was lost. What could he have said to deserve such a vehement reaction?

"An FBI agent." His brother clarified.

"But you are." He stared at Don lost for words. Why would he suddenly deny being an FBI agent?

Don fixed him a glare. After taking a deep breath and slowly breathing out through his mouth, he turned back to the solace of the sea. "What about us? What kind of brothers are we?"

Charlie knew that this was a bad idea. He wasn't meant to be the comforter of the family. A little voice reminded him that he was the only one available, so he had to do something. What would his mom have done?

He took another step nearer to Don. "I don't know how to explain what kind of brothers we are. You're the only one I have. Look, we're not really huggers, but I just found my brother again, and hugging seems to be appropriate."

There, he said the truth.

Don glanced over his shoulder. "No hugging," he decided and turned with a final glance back to the water. But this time, he started to walk, and Charlie had to scramble to catch up with him.

"Should we be walking in this direction?" He asked. "Because I think that might break the 300-meter rule."

Don gave him a dark smile. "Then maybe I'll find out who wants me dead and why they haven't done it already. I didn't even know I was being hunted until you all found me."

With a jolt, Charlie realized something important. "You don't believe us." That's the reason why he denied being an FBI agent.

Don stopped, forcing Charlie to halt before he ran into him. "If somebody suddenly came and told you that you are an FBI agent and somebody wants to kill you, that all of California had apparently unsuccessfully searched for you, oh, and you are an important witness and we now need to protect you whether you want it or not - you would believe them?"

"Yes." Charlie nodded. "I mean, it's true."

His brother laughed. It was a dark and bitter laugh. "Right. If I'm Don Eppes, why couldn't the Newtown Police identify me? If I'm an important witness, why didn't any database list my name or have my fingerprints? If you're my brother, why didn't you put me on the missing persons list? Why would this mysterious somebody who wants to kill me wait until the FBI had found me and not kill me earlier? For all I know, this mysterious killer is you."

Charlie stood aghast and stared at his brother.

"Yo!" Colby called out from the house. "Back in!" he ordered.

"My guards are calling me back to prison. If you ask me? You guys want something from me and are willing to do whatever's necessary to get it." Don pivoted on his heel and stalked back to the house.

He left Charlie standing back, utterly lost. From a scientific view point, it was highly interesting that despite the missing memories, the thought process was identical. Even the conclusion Don had come to was, strictly speaking, correct. They wanted something from him, but nothing sinister or bad. They just wanted their friend and brother back.

Maybe the storm was a blessing, preventing his father from seeing Don like this.

His father! Charlie swallowed hard. He needed to convince Don of the truth before their father met them.

He turned going back to the house.

Dad didn't deserve to meet Don's new hostility.

Their father! He jerked to a halt. This was the key. Charlie knew what he had to do. He started to run over the wet sand back to the house.

"I take it by Don's mood that you haven't had success in convincing Don that we are his friends?" Colby asked as he held the door open for him.

"No. But I have a plan." He grabbed his laptop. "It's the old saying: a picture is worth a thousand words." He held up his laptop. "I have almost all our family pictures here. I can show him our family. Amita made a photo collage for our dad with hundreds of photos."

Colby raised his eyebrows. "Good luck."

Charlie nodded and pointed to the stairs. "He is upstairs?"

"Yes."

Charlie stormed upstairs. He had a plan. The photos would pave the path to his memories. It would work. He would believe him.

It simply had to work.

* * *

 **Thu, Sept 24 - 14:00 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

Joe Flynn waited by his stationary compactor, watching how it squelched everything flat. The sound was like music in his ears.

He wished that he could do the same thing with the men that killed his son. And his anger and hate. His wife was right; it only served to destroy him, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not if it suddenly seemed as if Robin Brooks could get peace and joy, and he still wouldn't ever see his Matthew again.

He had hunted a man that hadn't done anything wrong. His only offense had been being the boyfriend of his enemy.

What had he become?

He shook his head, sending his doubts away. What was done was done. Now it was time to finish it.

He had decided on this course of action; he would not back down and just let her have her peace and joy.

He still had some Aces to pull. Maybe Agent Eppes' family would make a good target. Maybe the professor. His life against the life of Agent Eppes.

The world was full of possibility. You just had to lower yourself to their level.

His gaze fell down on his watch. He only had a diamond Rolex because Matthew had given it him.

His son had only been ten when he had brought him all of his money, one hundred and fifteen dollars and thirty pennies, so he could get a new watch. For a ten-year old boy, this was the easy solution to stop their neighbors from treating his father like a lesser man because he hadn't been born into their high society. That was Matthew, always fighting for justice.

Flynn paused. Matthew would have cut him out of his life if he had known the lengths his father would go to for revenge.

He needed to rediscover his point of no return. The line he wasn't willing to cross.

Maybe he should draw it at the family of his enemies. Yes, this was a good line.

Maybe he should redouble his efforts to get Robin Brooks. He shook his head. The sweet promise of her pain when she had to bury her boyfriend was something he couldn't resist.

Once upon a time, he had been proud of his morality. Now he had become just an average scumbag.

He looked down at the phone in his hand. It was time for one last check-in with Holland and Stu.

It rang. "What's the status?"

"We are prepared," Holland answered. "Tell whoever got us this pizza van a thank-you. I don't remember ever getting better prepared in such a short time."

"I will," Flynn promised. "Make sure that Don Eppes does not survive the night. I won't tolerate another failure in this case."

"Sure thing," Stu drawled. "After Eppes is dead, do want us paying a visit to the last DEA agent? Miller something?"

"No, I have my own plan for the remaining DEA agent."

They finished the conversation. After shutting the phone down and throwing it in the stationary compactor, Joe Flynn watched how the piece of plastic was squelched flat.

Just like his enemies. Just like Don Eppes.

* * *

 _TBC_


	21. No Failure Allowed

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Dear other guest: thank you for your profound and kind words!_

* * *

 **NO FAILURE ALLOWED**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 01:18 - Beach House, Los Angeles**

Charlie slept well.

He had made good progress with Don. At first, he had refused to look at the photos, but Charlie had a lifetime of experience in convincing Don and had won the fight.

It went better with every new batch of photos. Don still didn't really believe this FBI business thing, and Charlie didn't have enough photos to prove it to him. He had made a note to himself to contact Terry Lake to ask for photos from his graduation and everything else that she could think of.

But at least he now did believe that they were brothers and that his name was Don Eppes. He just couldn't image himself as an FBI agent. Not having a better explanation, Don was holding onto his belief that the FBI and police were his enemies.

After a text message to Amita to thank her and Larry, he had shut down his cell to prevent anybody from calling and startling Don. Again.

They could continue where they had left off in the morning. Maybe the sleep would heal something in Don.

With this calming thought, he had fallen asleep on the sofa on the second floor right next to Don's bed. Neither the agents nor Don had kicked him out.

But now something tingled at the edge of his consciousness. He became more and more awake. Re-orienting himself, Charlie tried to find out what could have woken him.

There! He saw a silhouette sneaking to the balcony door.

Suddenly he was wide awake. Don was running.

He scrambled up. "Don!" he whispered. If the agents caught him, not even David would be able to prevent Agent Paul's plan to throw him into a cell. He had to stop him.

Don stopped. In the dark, he couldn't see his expression.

He stumbled to Don. "Don, you can't-"

Don pressed his hand over Charlie's mouth. "Sshhh." He pointed to the stairs leading downstairs. "They're here."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Who?" He whispered back. In the unexpected quiet, it sounded unnaturally loud.

"Whoever is after me."

Charlie calmed down a bit. This couldn't be. His voice returned to normal. "I don't-"

Don clamped his mouth shut again. With his free hand, he put his finger on his own lips. Impatiently, Charlie nodded.

"See," his brother whispered and opened the balcony door. "It's supposed to give an alarm." He indicated with his chin to the telephone next to his bed. "The phone is dead, there's no electricity."

Charlie's heartbeat sped up. Sweat collected to run down his spine. He suddenly shivered in the open balcony door.

"Do you smell that?"

Charlie didn't smell anything. But then he never had been good at detecting things around him.

"It's knockout gas."

The professor had a thousand questions and numbers in his head. What chemical substance, how it was distributed, and just how had it entered a safe house. But the emotional side of him just trusted his brother and his conclusion. Because a lot of his reflexes and thought processes were still the same despite Don not remembering.

"I'm going. You stay here." Don had already crossed the threshold as the words registered in Charlie's brain. "No!" he whisper-screamed and ran after Don.

"They are after me. You are safe here as long as they are hunting me!"

"I just found you, I am not going to let you disappear again."

The sound of breaking glass interrupted their argument.

"We don't have time for this." Don's gaze was worriedly fixed on the stairway. "I need to go."

"If we don't have time for this, then you have to let me come with you."

A shaky shadow on the wall started to climb up the stairs.

"Fine," Don whispered and pulled Charlie with him to the guard rail.

With a practiced movement, he swung over the rail and lowered himself until he had to jump the last meters. He landed with a soft thump.

The shadow had almost reached the point that Charlie could see the top of the person's head. He ignored his trembling hands and mimicked his brother's movements until he hit the ground. His feet and knee hurt from the hard ground. His landing had produced more noise than Don's.

But Charlie didn't have time to calculate the difference in height, upper body strength, and shoe material, as Don was already running to the fence.

He followed him blindly. He couldn't let him run alone or he risked losing him again. If they had really managed to attack the house, Don was his safest option either way.

Behind them, the patio and house suddenly lit in bright light from a powerful flashlight.

Don froze, forcing Charlie to run into him. But his brother used the forward motion to push him down on the ground. "Stay down," he whispered to his head. They both crouched low near the fence and back entrance.

His gaze tracked the movement in the house. Charlie dared to look up and follow his gaze. Dark clad figures crept through the house. The flashlight was so bright that Charlie could see the gun in their hands.

Suddenly, his brother cursed.

Charlie's gaze flew to where his brother looked. One of the light beams focused on one sleeping person. The distance was too far to see if it was Colby or somebody else. But the distance wasn't far enough to mistake the gun and firing position.

They were going to shoot one of the agents.

Charlie hadn't finished his thought as his brother jumped up and called out: "Hey!" In the same breath, he threw Charlie to the right into the bushes.

The light beam left the agent, focusing easily on Don who stood tall in the garden.

Before Charlie could say anything, he heard the rattle of gunfire but he couldn't feel the heat. He looked up at the shocked face of his brother.

"It's bulletproof glass," Don said astonished. As if the words ruptured a dam, the energy returned in Don's movement. He grabbed Charlie at the neck of his shirt and pulled him up. "Run!"

Together, they stormed through the gate that opened easily, thankfully, for them just as they heard glass shattering.

Charlie ran as hard as he could to follow his brother. It was one part despair and fear of the gunmen and one part desire to never lose his brother again. If he now lost him, he probably wouldn't surface again.

Don was faster. He had already reached the outer parts of the harbor.

Behind him, he heard shouts and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the first beams of the flashlight.

Don had slowed down on reaching the docks. It allowed Charlie to catch up to him.

"Don," he wheezed. But his brother just grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him into a boat house.

"Hide." He shoved him behind a rack of parts.

In the sudden darkness, without the moonlight, Don's eyes seemed unnaturally bright.

He crept back to the door. Moving it slightly, his efforts were rewarded by a hail of bullets. Don ducked back inside. He grabbed the nearest object and moved it across the door to lock it.

His sneakers moved almost silent across the boat house. He searched carefully for the second door by moving his fingers across shelves.

After Charlie had regained control over his breathing, he stumbled over to Don. It was so dark that he literally couldn't see Don until he bumped into him.

"I told you to hide," his brother hissed. Charlie was so near he could feel the heat and fast breath from his brother.

"I am not going to abandon you." Charlie shook his head. "No way."

"They are after me!"

"Then why did you signal them where you were?" Charlie shot back.

Don took a calming breath and leaned back against the wooden wall. His fingers rattled at the doorknob opening it.

Heavy boots trumped on the wooden planks just outside of the boat house.

"I couldn't just let them kill an innocent agent. It isn't their fault. If they are after me, I will not risk anybody else's life."

A huge weighted was lifted from Charlie's shoulders. He grinned. The heavy boots came nearer, and the door opened with a little squeak before hitting the barrier Don had put up. But Charlie could only grin. This man not only wore his brother's face and possessed his mistrust and thought processes, he also had his brother's moral compass. He may not remember it, but this man truly was Don Eppes.

"Go hide, I will distract them."

"No, I am coming with you."

Don had already opened the door. The moonlight highlighted Don's hard expression and the sweat pearled on his face. Charlie had run hard, but he was sure that he didn't sweat like Don.

"What do I have to-"

Burst of automatic firing splintered the wood of the opposite door, and the brothers intuitively ducked out of the other door. The argument was postponed by an unspoken agreement.

Their possible routes of escape were limited. As they reached the gate in the strong fence, they found it locked. Don kicked at it without success.

They looked around and at each other, searching for a way out.

"The water."

Charlie grabbed his brother's wrist and pulled. "We need to get in the water."

Don hesitated. "I don't know if I can -"

"You know how to swim. Trust me. Even if you don't remember, your muscles will." Charlie tugged again, and this time Don followed.

They jumped into the water with a loud splash.

The cold water stole his breath. Charlie looked over to Don. As predicted, he swam with strong strokes around the fence to the other side.

Wet and cold, they needed precious moments to climb on land.

Charlie just followed Don, trying to lighten his steps to match Dons. He trusted him.

The moonlight illuminated the container rows.

Shots rang out as their attacker tried to open the lock with sheer force. They were neither subtle nor patient. The shout of pain underlined the risk they had been taking.

Charlie hoped that it would slow them down. They entered the first hallway, hoping that the attacker hadn't already seen them.

Running zig-zag, they went several rows until they stopped next to a mint green container.

Don leaned against it to catch his breath. For a moment, he stayed upright but then he lowered himself down until he sat.

"Seriously," he whispered. "You need to hide and call for help. We are not going to be able to evade them for long."

Charlie plopped down beside his brother. He wasn't as tired, but he also had a feeling that Dr. Ramirez didn't stress the part about rest and good nutrition just to fulfill his monthly quota.

"I am not going to leave you!" Charlie insisted.

Both breathed hard. In the not so far distance, they could hear voices and footsteps. They were searching. If they had hurt themselves with their shooting, it hadn't stopped them.

Suddenly Charlie bolted upright. "My cell!" He searched his pants and pulled out his cell in triumph.

He shared a smile with his brother before he climbed up.

But Charlie's face fell as he tried to turn it on. The water had destroyed his phone. It didn't even turn on.

Don put his hand on his shoulder and didn't say anything.

"We need you to get to a phone."

"I am not going to leave you."

"But first I need to distract them," Don continued as if he hadn't heard Charlie.

"I can help."

His brother just gave him a disbelieving look with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. I can calculate the search pattern they'll use and how to slip through it." He nodded. Searching his pockets, he found the necessary pen and paper. Pencil would also work on wet paper.

"Calculating?"

"Yes. I am the math guy, remember? I use math for everything."

Don grabbed Charlie's dead cell phone. Then he crept forward to the next intersection and carefully inched his way to the edge. He took the phone with his black sweatshirt and held it out in the open.

"I see guy number two checking the planks," he reported. "He is walking every footbridge down."

For a moment, Charlie just stared at him. Don gave him a scorching look. "Don't you need some information to calculate a pattern?"

"Of course." For the second time this evening, the joy of having his brother back overtook the part of his brain that told him he should be worried.

Together, they not only managed to get a good layout of the harbor but also a good pattern of movement.

Even better, Charlie recognized the pattern. It was pretty standard, but suffered from lack of numbers.

Charlie could easily spot the dark spots that were virtually unseen to their attackers.

Carefully matching their steps to the search pattern, Don and Charlie reached the harbor entry wet but alive.

Keeping to the shadows and trying to be as quiet as possible, they made their way back to the main street.

"No police? I am sure that somebody has already called-"

"Not if they pulled down more than just our electricity." Don again gave him look that was supposed to mean thousands of things. Not a single one Charlie understood.

His brother sighed and pointed with his hand to the houses around. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that nobody has any lights on? That no street lamp is running or that everything else is dark?"

No, he hadn't seen this. His eyes had accepted the moonlight as sole light source and adapted.

But this really was odd and probably meant: "They cut the electricity for the whole neighborhood."

Don rolled his eyes. "You're a genius."

"I even have it in writing," Charlie answered in reflex.

His brother didn't bother to respond and instead stroked through his wet hair to remove excessive water.

Suddenly he stopped. Glancing back to the harbor, he ducked behind a high wall.

Charlie followed. "What?"

"Do you see that pizza delivery van?"

Charlie scanned his environment. There, at the opposite side of the street a dark van, parked with a pizza on the side. "Yes. What about it?"

"In a gated community where they probably eat caviar for breakfast, they need a pizza delivery? I am pretty sure that there is a pizza delivery nearby driving a Rolls Royce."

Charlie had to smile at the image of a single pizza per seat in a Rolls Royce. Sadly, he could actually imagine it. "And?"

"It means that this is their ride."

Don looked again back to the street of the harbor and to the formerly safe house. Before Charlie could stop him, he sprinted across the street.

Charlie followed again and crouched next to him against the rear wheel.

"Do you always follow me around?" The annoyance in his voice was real this time.

"If you don't tell me what you are planning to do, what else am I supposed to do?"

Instead of answering, Don carefully tried to open the door. It worked.

"Don, don't!"

But Don was already climbing in. Charlie hung back. Through the open door, he could see a lot of pizza boxes ripped open. Don opened another one. Beneath the cold and smeary pizza Charlie could easily make out the pattern in the paper of a gun. This was how they had smuggled their guns into a gated community.

His brother stared at the imprint of a weapon, mesmerized.

"Don!"

Suddenly there was a loud bang from the direction of the harbor.

Don's head snapped up pulling him out of his trance faster than Charlie's command. He listened for a moment before he grabbed a multitool and jumped out of the van.

"They're coming," Charlie whispered furiously. There were no streetlamps and yet he felt exposed. "We need to go."

Why had nobody called the police with their mobile phone? Somebody had to have heard something.

He looked around trying to find the perfect route to leave as fast as possible. Why hadn't he studied a map before coming here?

"Don," he whispered again.

His brother worked furiously at the ankle bracelet trying to cut through it. For a moment, Charlie was perplexed. "What are you doing?"

"Your guys warned me that this was a connection that would survive a power blackout and still work after a power restore. Let's put this to a test." He cut through the last frays. Then he put the ankle bracelet beneath the driver's seat and closed the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving the FBI something to chase," he said with a dark smile. "Let's get out of here."

From the harbor, they could hear more noises.

"I think this way" Charlie pointed north, "is the best possible route."

Don just kept his smile firmly fixed on his face. "And I know where the hiking trail starts. Just ask Agent Granger about the 300 meter rule."

Charlie was tempted to ask but before he could actually come up with something, his brother had already taken off.

He had to sprint after him. The fact that he was in better physical condition was only a small consolation. He needed help, and he needed to get the help to his brother. But mostly he couldn't lose his brother again.

He followed his silhouette into the darkness.

* * *

 _TBC_


	22. No Failure Allowed II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and for your reviews!_

* * *

 **NO FAILURE ALLOWED II**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 03:10 - David's apartment, Los Angeles**

David had just fallen asleep when the ringing of his cell phone woke him up. A glance at his watch told him that he had slept for four hours.

The caller ID and time made him weary. "Sinclair."

"They attacked the safe house. Eppes is gone." Agent Paul forwent a greeting.

A bucket of ice water couldn't have woken him up faster. He sprung up. "What happened?"

"I am on my way to you. I'll be there in five minutes. I am not going to wait."

David was dressed, equipped with gun and badge, and downstairs in front of his building in two and a half minutes.

Thirty seconds later, Agent Paul came to a halt next to him.

She stepped on the gas before he had fully closed the door.

"What happened?" He repeated the question before he glanced over to her. It was the first time he'd seen her without her signature pantsuit. She had tied her hair in an easy ponytail. Her expression more than made up for it. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line.

"The local police called because they received several reports of shots fired at the harbor." Her hands clenched the wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Dispatch called me after they could not reach anybody in the safe house."

"How did dispatch know about the house?"

"The location triggered an automatic response." Paul answered. "I would be more interested how our safe house could be betrayed."

This was something David had also already thought about. "Do we have contact with our team?"

"No."

David grabbed his cell and thumbed Colby on his contact list. "I'm calling Agent Granger," he announced while pushing the button. He pressed the cell to his ear.

He listened to the computer voice telling him that the number couldn't be reached. "Nothing."

Agent Paul drove over the speed limit, the siren given them a constant background noise. Both indulged their thoughts.

"What did dispatch say exactly?" David finally asked as the silence became too much.

"Not much, just that they can't reach any of the agents and that the local police reported shots fired."

It took over an hour of fruitless phone calls, useless calls to the local police that was apparently swamped until they reached the outer skirts of the gated community.

Everything was dark except a point in the distance that almost looked like a fire.

"No power." David checked his cell phone again. His bars disappeared. "No reception."

"No defense, no call for backup," Paul added and her fingers gripped the wheel even harder.

The rest of the journey they spent in silence. Paul parked their FBI SUV on the beach as everything else was already taken.

"Sheriff Anders," Paul greeted the dark-haired man. "I am Special Agent Paul, and this is Special Agent Sinclair."

David shook hands. The handshake was as firm and strong as the man appeared. "Do you know where Agent-"

"Your agents are more or less fine. They are being treated by paramedics. They got knocked out by some kind of gas. But they're okay."

David released a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. "What happened? What do we know?"

"Somebody took out the power. Cell reception is already thin up here but with this, many networks just disappeared. So it took some time for the report about gunfire to reach us."

He pointed to the next brightly lit area. The safe house. "Somebody used assault weapons here and at the harbor."

David assumed that they were borrowing or producing power from generators. These houses probably had backup generators without their owners knowing it.

"Did you find anyone?"

Sheriff Anders gave him a strange look. "No, we didn't apprehend anybody."

Shaking his head, David clarified: "No, I mean, was anybody killed?"

"No, nothing. We have found some blood near a gate between the industrial and private part of the harbor. A lot of footprints and fingerprints, but no bodies."

"Dispatch relayed to me that we lost our witness?" Agent Paul had listened the entire time without trying to interfere.

"Yeah, your agents wanted to make sure that this went out."

"Over open air?" Paul asked and raised her eyebrows. "What were they thinking?"

Sheriff Anders shrugged. "Do you want to see the boat house?"

David took the opportunity. "Why don't you go to the boat house, and I'll check out the safe house, ma'am?"

She gave him a long hard stare and then nodded to Sheriff Anders. He clearly detected the badly hidden tension and just pointed David to the officer guarding the crime scene.

David walked along the edge of the beach. Crime scene technicians were going over the prints in the sand. He didn't need to be a specialist to see that the persons ran full speed. The kind of speed you only achieve with a gun in your back.

But the safe house only looked worse. It reminded David of a war movie.

He let his gaze linger across the living room. Not even twenty-fours ago, he had sat here and talked to Colby. And now no ten centimeters were free of a bullet hole or a shell marker.

The crime technicians would need days to complete a report.

David sped up and hurried out to the front. He couldn't wait days. He needed to see his agents, his friends, and check on them right now.

Two ambulances were parked in front of the house.

David just needed to follow the raised voices to find Colby. He sat on a gurney arguing with the paramedic whether the oxygen mask was necessary or not.

"Hi." Relief flow through David at seeing him. "How are you?"

Colby looked up. "Don is gone. Nobody knows where he is!"

David nodded. "I know. You made sure that Sheriff Anders informed us."

Colby sank down and took a deep breath from the oxygen mask. "I know this was risky, but we already lost Don. If Flynn had him, the message wouldn't matter, but if they were still evading them, then maybe you could send help."

It was more or less the same thing David would have done. He frowned. "They? If they were still evading him?"

Colby glanced at him and then back down. He looked guilty.

David closed his eyes. "You let Charlie stay." How he managed to make an announcement instead of an accusation he didn't know. But he did.

"He just zonked out on us, and Don let him stay. He even got him a blanket." Colby kept his gaze down. His shoulders joined the direction. "He let him stay near him; it was a start, and I didn't want to ruin it."

Over the next few minutes, David and Colby, together with Liz and the other two agents, Mitchell and Philipps, pieced together what had happened.

When Agent Paul joined them half an hour later, David was sure that he knew the course of events. Agent Paul would be less than thrilled.

The attacker had manipulated the vent system to spread knockout gas through the house. They hadn't known that Don had cut off his floor because he couldn't stand the strange sound and maybe just to test what he could do or what they let him do. Either way, none of the gas had reached him.

With his new-found paranoia, he had had the chance to detect the threat fast enough.

The agents never stood a chance to detect the power cut because the concentration of the gas had already done its job as the power, including the vent system, went down.

David wasn't sure about Colby's hazy memories that he heard Don's voice just as a gun waved in his face, but his next memory was supported by the evidence. One attacker fired against the bullet proof glass. The position could've easily been in front of the armchair he had sat in.

The powerful weapon was shot against the glass until it gave away. Then the chase continued across the beach and the harbor.

Agent Paul added her findings, and they concluded that Don and Charlie either had gotten away or had been kidnapped.

Her reaction to Charlie's presence was as expected, but her next act David didn't anticipate.

She pulled out her cell. "Andrew? Yeah, I've got a new job for you." She nodded. "Yes. I want you to drop everything and find Alan Eppes. I don't care if he is on cruise in Alaska or Hawaii. Find him, and then do not let him out of your sight. Get yourself as many agents as you need."

She listened to his answer. "Okay. If I call, you'll tell me where Alan Eppes is, clear? I am not going to have another Eppes running around getting lost." She shut down her cell.

She looked a little lost as she stared down on her phone. Then she squared her shoulders and looked at Colby. "You said you think you know where they are?"

"There is a hiking trail hidden in the dunes. It is not visible from the street or the beach. You have to know where to look. Don almost disappeared through it, except the monitor sounded the alarm and we caught up with him."

He answered her inquiring look with an unmoved look on his own.

"I expect a full report from all the agents present."

She looked thoughtful at the scenery. "You realized that he also could have been taken?"

"Yes, ma'am. But Charlie would be a hindrance, and this time they wouldn't need a distraction. We already know where to knock."

She nodded. "Then we need to go knocking." She gazed out to the dunes. "Let's hope you're right. We need to find them as fast as possible."

For the first time, David agreed with her wholeheartedly.

* * *

 _TBC_


	23. Run And Hit

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing. And dear other guest: thank you for your constant and detailed reviews!_

* * *

 **RUN AND HIT**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 04:55 - Unknown Location, Los Angeles**

Everything Charlie knew about hiking was useless in the dark. He stumbled more than walked. It was far more grueling to even get a mile in the dark than ten miles in the broad daylight.

Of course, he should factor in the missing equipment like hiking boots, flashlights, and water and food. But the conclusion remained, he was struggling to stay on the path that he could only sort of feel.

If he was struggling, it had to be torture for Don who set the brutal pace. Charlie didn't know if Don feared a pursuit or if he just wanted to run away.

But he went far too fast for the current conditions. The moment Charlie had enough breath to tell him this, he would do it. But first he had to keep up with him, or even better, reach him.

His wet clothes stuck to his skin. He shivered in the cool air.

"Don!"

His brother kept his head down and continued on the trail.

"Don!" Charlie tried again.

With a burst of speed, Charlie darted forward and grabbed his shoulder. The slight shake was enough for his brother to stumble.

Then he stopped at last.

"Don, you ... we ... I need a break. Let's rest for a minute, please." Charlie kept his hand on Don's shoulder.

"You can rest, I'll carry on." Don blinked. In the dim moonlight, his face looked pretty pale.

"Where are we going?" If he wouldn't stop to rest, maybe he'd stop for an explanation.

"If I am right, the trail should end with a truck stop. There I'll try to get a lift." Don swayed in place.

The walk had taken far too much out of him. The stress of dealing with the FBI and everything that happened the last twenty-four hours just added to the general exhaustion that he must have already been dealing with. The wet and cold clothes only exacerbated the problem.

Charlie shook his head. "If there's really a truck stop, then we can call the FBI, and they'll come and get us."

Don laughed out loud. "I am not calling the FBI, and neither are you." He shoved Charlie's hand from his shoulder. He turned and trudged on.

"But calling David is the best thing-"

His brother shook his head without turning. "You can call your FBI buddies after I am gone."

Charlie trotted after him. Don's pace had slowed down. He could breathe easier with the little pause he had gotten. "They're not my buddies. But we need to call them."

"I've lived on my own just fine for six months. Then you guys show up and everything goes downhill." He shook his head. "No. I am far better off on my own. I don't care what story you spin for -"

"I am not leaving you. If you go, so do I!" Charlie knew that his brother was stubborn, but this was taking it a step too far. Or maybe, Don had a plan how to get away and hide that he wasn't willing to share. He needed to do something.

The next few minutes they trudged on. Only their stumbling steps and laboring breath could be heard.

Charlie tried to remember everything that he had picked up over the years from his brother and the other FBI agents. He was sure that there was a good tactic and best approach for how to talk his brother into contacting the FBI. He was pretty sure that the men from the safe house weren't following them, but they would be back. Despite Don's returned tactical knowledge, Charlie didn't like the odds of survival in case of an encounter.

He needed a point of entry. He stumbled as the idea came. Charlie hurried to catch up again.

"They will search for you. Until now, you haven't been a wanted man, but now ..." Charlie trailed off.

"Why would they look for me? Because I'm their precious witness?"

With a deep sigh that was part hard breathing from the exercise and part annoyance at his brother, Charlie explained it: "You are my brother. They are your friends, and you are important to us. Oh, and you cut through the ankle bracelet. I'm sure that the moment they have the power back on, they -" Charlie stopped. Literally and verbally.

"Darn!"

"What?" Don asked carefully, also having stopped.

"They will follow the pizza van thinking it's us and not expecting a small army. We need to warn them." Energy that was just missing now flooded through Charlie's body, and he overtook Don.

"This is the way?" He asked over his shoulder.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25- 05:35 - Beach House, Los Angeles**

"Sinclair," David answered his cell. The caller ID said unknown number.

"Don't tell me that he is missing again. I haven't even seen him yet." The voice on the other end sobbed.

David operated on only a few hours' sleep. It took a moment to identity the voice. "Robin."

"Please, tell me that he is safe and that I can speak to him. Please."

He looked up to his car where Colby was sleeping off the last effects of the gas after he had refused to go home. Liz had done the smart thing and let herself be driven home. He looked further. Agent Paul still ran the scene. Nikki should be in the office.

Nobody near to help him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Robin continued to sob quietly.

"I'm sorry," David said at last.

He had avoided talking to her since she had blown up in his face on the lack of progress early in the case. But now he had nobody else to take over.

"What happened? For the love of everything, what happened?" Her voice grew firm.

He could picture it in his head how she drew herself up and put the mask back on.

"Charlie and Don probably managed to evade some-"

"Charlie is with Don?"

"Yes."

She laughed, coughed, and sobbed all in one. "Then Don isn't really lost. He has his brother."

"Robin," David started. How to tell her that Don wasn't himself? "Don is not-"

"I know. Charlie told me. Including the prognosis. I know." Robin the prosecutor had returned. Robin the girlfriend had again taken shelter behind a feigned strength. "But Charlie is like a bull dog. He will not be discarded or refused. He will stay with him. Don always has a hard time to get rid of him."

David sighed. He really hadn't wanted the confirmation. "That's what we're afraid of."

"Why?"

"As long as Don mistrusts us and hides from us, Flynn has the better resources to track them down. If they spend their time fighting each other, that might give him additional ammunition."

"Don't underestimate Charlie. And don't underestimate Don. He survived his murder scheme, he survived six months on his own. He can make a plan on the go. Charlie will adapt to such a plan."

He looked down. "Yes. You're right." There was no need to destroy her hope. She was in the hospital after surgery. She could do nothing else but hope.

"Of course I am right." He heard it in her voice. She knew that she was telling herself a fine lie. "Then I am not going to keep you from doing your job. Thank you for your time."

"Sure." He almost closed his cell before he added, "We will find him. This time we won't stop until we have him. I promise."

For a long moment, the line remained silent. Maybe she had already put the handset down. But then the quiet and unsure voice of Robin, the girlfriend, returned. "Thank you."

Rubbing his face, after the uncharacteristically emotional conversation, David went over to the tent that served as headquarters and grabbed a cup of coffee.

"Where are we?" Colby stumbled in and grabbed the last free cup.

"At a crime scene," David deadpanned. "Do you need your head examined?"

"Ha, ha," Colby grumbled. "Something new about Don?"

David contemplated telling him about Robin, about the restoration of power and search for the ankle monitor, but decided against it. He first needed more coffee. He had just taken a sip as his cell rang again. Glancing at the caller ID, David was again up against an unknown number.

He flipped it open. "Sinclair."

"David?"

As if he had been hit by a lightning bolt, energy flowed through David. The reception was bad, but David recognized the voice nonetheless.

Colby perked up. He had seen the change.

"Charlie?"

Colby darted through the throng of people. He came back with Agent Paul and a cell phone pressed to his ear, just as David had found the loudspeaker button.

"Yeah," the professor sounded tiny in the suddenly silent area.

"Where are you? How are you? Is Don with you?" David fired of the most important questions. Any answer he would get would be great.

"We're here."

He shared a look with Colby. He supposed that Colby was on the cell with HQ to get a location. But Charlie's strange answer raised the same eyebrows.

"We - that's you and Don, right?" David forced his voice calm and level.

"Ah, yeah. Listen, David, Don doesn't want to come in, and I am not going to leave him. But-"

"What do you mean he doesn't want to come in?" Agent Paul interrupted. "It's not like he has a choice. The men here weren't playing hide-and-seek. If he didn't believe us before now he should know better."

"Yes, but nobody shot at him until he met you."

"Nobody knew who he was until we identified him. But now everybody knows."

David stared at Paul with an expression conveying his confusion about her argument. She pointed at the active cell and showed two fingers. Of course, it stood to reason that Don was listening in and her objections were for his ears.

"Yes, but now he knows about the threat and can act accordingly." Charlie sounded unsure about this assessment.

David took a deep breath. "Charlie," he said carefully. This was important. "What's his plan?"

"He knows that he has to go -" Charlie broke off. They heard a scuffle.

"Charlie?"

It took far longer than good for David's health for Charlie to answer. "Yes, here. He has a plan."

David pictured him with Don standing behind him, looking over his shoulder and nodding to himself.

Agent Paul gave him a hard glare and pointed to Colby who made a rolling motion with his hand. David grimaced but he knew that he needed to ask this question fully aware of the potential consequences. "Charlie, is Don armed? Did he take a gun?"

He knew that every law enforcement gun was accounted for, but there was no way of knowing how many or how Flynn's people brought in their guns.

"No, there were no other guns in the van."

"What van?" Paul asked.

"Oh, the pizza van, Don thinks that it was the car they came in. There were boxes with gun imprints and all the other stuff."

Paul flicked her fingers at the nearest agent. "Get the gate log and look for a delivery van. I want a BOLO out on the plates, right now."

Colby was still on the phone to HQ. They almost had a location.

Charlie suddenly added: "You can find the van if you follow the signal of tracker."

"What?"

"Don put his tracker into the van."

Paul took a deep breath and told Agent Chun, who was leading the search for the tracker, "Nobody moves on the GPS signal until I say so."

"Charlie, we are on our way. You have to get Don to cooperate."

"Yeah, I'll tell him, but we are probably not going to be here when you come." They heard voices in the background. "We need to go."

"Charlie, if Don wants to go, then you have to let him go." David tried. "We can get you and protect you. I don't think Don is able to protect himself and you. You have to think about your dad. He can't fear for both his sons." David tried again.

"I can't. I-"

"Professor Eppes, is your brother forcing you to stay?"

"What?!" Charlie and David said at the same time. While Charlie sounded really angry, David was more concerned. He hadn't even considered that Don could use Charlie to protect himself from the FBI, and it scared him. He should have considered this objective.

Colby's face, however, agreed with Charlie's anger.

"No way. You don't know my brother at all. I am not going to lose him again. And I am not going to leave him alone again!" The line went dead.

Colby and David shared a look. Neither was surprised when twenty minutes later the local unit reported that they couldn't find either Don or Charlie at the truck stop where the signal had come from.

But they were surprised as a minute after that, dispatch reported that they had located the ankle bracelet signal. It was a known nearby address of Flynn Logistics. If the attackers needed to regroup, they could intercept them before they had the chance to return to their hunting.

"Gear up!"

He never agreed more with Agent Paul.

This was their chance.

* * *

 _TBC_


	24. Run And Hit II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and for every review! I appreciate your thoughts and ideas!_

 _It's time for Zoe's promised return and to say goodbye to her._

* * *

 **RUN AND HIT II**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 05:50 - Boyd's Diner, Los Angeles**

Zoe yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was awful to be the first in the morning to open up the diner. But she was happy to still have her job. Thanks to Agent Warner who talked to Mr. Boyd, she was still allowed to work here.

Nancy had agreed to let her sleep in her apartment in exchange for babysitting duties. How she'd go to an audition with this condition she hadn't figured out yet.

Since that fateful day, she hadn't seen or heard anything from John. She now knew that his real name was Don Eppes and that he was the famous FBI agent that first prevented the kidnapping of his girlfriend and then went missing himself.

Most radio stations talked about the trial and how this new development would change the outcome. But there also were speculations about his ability to testify. Zoe knew that there would be no testifying because he couldn't remember, but she kept this information to herself.

She turned on the radio and coffee machines. In a few minutes the first customers would arrive, and she had to be ready.

Suddenly a fist banged against the door.

Zoe jerked and whirled around to face the door.

She froze.

For a moment, she just stared at the glass door. But the image remained. As if an invisible chain had been released, she suddenly was free and ran to the door.

Her hands shock so much that she needed several tries to unlock the door.

"John?" She opened the door wide. "What are you doing here?"

John and Professor Eppes stood in front of her door. They were wet, dirty, and exhausted. Their shoulders slumped.

She stepped outside. In the distance, she could see one of the construction trucks.

"Can we come in?" John said finally. He pointed at the man next to him. "This is Charlie Eppes. Apparently, my brother."

Suddenly unsure about the turn of events, Zoe asked: "Are we fine?"

"Would I come for help to you if we weren't?"

She nodded. "You're angry." She stepped back. "Come in." She deserved his anger.

"Thanks."

"Yes, thank you," the second man said. "I'm Professor Eppes. His brother. We met at CalSci."

She nodded. It was everything she had wanted as she had gone to CalSci, give John a real name and find him a family. But now both of them stood in front of her, dripping wet and dirty. They looked as if they had been in a fight. An air of exhaustion surrounded them.

Zoe closed the door behind them and locked it again. "Come with me." She directed them to the bathroom. There she took some towels and a first aid kit. "You can clean up. I can't offer any dry clothes, but maybe you can dry them a little at the dryer?"

"Thank you," Professor Eppes said again as they disappeared in the bathroom.

She prepared two cups of coffee. Nervously, she paced behind the counter. Everything about the situation seemed bad, and since her last mistake, she wasn't prepared to do the first best thing again.

The moment John left the bathroom, she gave him his coffee. "I am so sorry. I just wanted to help you-"

He held up a hand. "Thanks for the shelter and coffee. But we need to go. It won't take long for them to figure out where we are."

Her heart started to beat faster. "Them?"

"The bad guys? The FBI? LAPD?" He shrugged. "Take your pick."

She swallowed hard. "I am sorry."

"You said that already," he snapped. Then he looked down and sighed. "Do you know where my stuff is? I know that the FBI has the notebook and that they have it from you, but I looked already in the warehouse but there was nothing."

Her mouth was dry, she couldn't even swallow her fear. "They have everything."

His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I didn't take the notebook. I just took photos of the math to find out at CalSci what they could mean. Honestly." Tears began to form in her eyes. "But after the FBI let me go, I came here to rescue what I could rescue. I grabbed mine and your stuff to bring it to you and warn you but," she sniffed, "as I left the warehouse, they were already waiting for me."

John let his head sink until it touched the cool surface of the counter. "They have everything," he murmured.

"I am sorry." Zoe said for a third time. She didn't know what else to say. How to express or quantify the tears she had cried the last few days. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"What's going on?" The younger man came in. He stopped in the doorway as he saw his brother's shoulders heaving slightly. "What happened?"

His eyes narrowed at Zoe, and she shivered under the stare.

John, no Don, sat up. His eyes were remarkable dry. "They have all of my stuff, Charlie. We can go now. There is nothing here for me to get."

Professor Eppes nodded. "I know. David told me. I can call him and ask-"

Don was on his feet in a flash. He turned to his brother and laid into him. "You don't get it, do you? I am not going back. I am not going to call your FBI buddies. I don't care how necessary you think it is. And I told you already a thousand times that you have to get lost because I don't intend to shoulder responsibility for you."

After the first shock of being at the receiving end of his anger, the younger man began to relax. It was odd, but Zoe almost saw a little smile tugging at his lips.

"What are you smiling at?" Don hissed. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one to see it.

"You. This is so like you. You always did this in school when you didn't want to be seen with me. And if mom or dad made you walk me home, you always -"

"Stop." Don held up his hand. "You have photos. So I have to believe your story about us being brothers. But this just strengthens my case. You need to go and take care of our parents because I clearly don't remember them."

Now Charlie's smile lost something of its light. "Mom died. I told you this already. There is only dad and me." He looked down. After a moment, he squared his shoulders. "Why don't you come with me? We can go home, and I can show you even more photos."

"Charlie," Don sighed. The anger left him and his shoulder sagged down. "I can't ... they will ..."

"They will assume that you went somewhere far away. No one would believe that you'd follow my advice, because, frankly, it's illogical. Our house is warm, safe, and virtually secure because everybody's going to dismiss it as the last place you would hide either because you don't remember or wouldn't go for it." Charlie smiled despite his tired eyes. "Come on. You know that I am right."

Zoe turned back to her work. She wasn't needed anymore. Don had found a brother, somebody more qualified to take care of him. His brother would make sure that he got rest and healed. Maybe he would even help to pay some bills.

So in a way she actually did what she had set out to do. Why did she still feel so bad?

"Are you in trouble with your boss or the FBI?" Don returned his focus to her.

She gave him a look over her shoulder. "I don't think my problems even compare to your problems." She took a new towel and dried the next batch of cups. It was busy work.

"Wasn't the question," Don said and stepped up next to her. "So what is it?"

"This one agent, Agent Warner, helped me by talking to my boss. So everything is good. She said that they probably won't do anything about me." She looked down on the towel in her hand. With a deep breath, she raised her head to look at him. "I just lost my home, my place to stay. But I found a place to sleep with Nancy. So I am good." She finished with a smile. He carried enough guilt. She had carried for the last days more guilt than ever. She didn't want him to feel the same. Besides, it was her own fault.

Don's gaze turned to the door.

"Come on, Don." Professor Eppes hadn't given up. "Come with me. We still have stuff from you there. You can get dry clothes, sleep, and afterwards decide what you want to do about your missing papers and how to carry on."

Don looked longingly at the door and then down. Zoe knew the feeling, if you had to do the opposite of what you wanted to do because you were too tired, or too hungry. She always knew if she really hit rock bottom, she could call her mother and ask for a ticket home, and she would accept her with her arms open. But John never had this safety net. Now that somebody offered it, he didn't know what to do.

But Zoe had an opinion and knew what kind of hint would work. "You need to go now; the first customers will arrive soon, and you know how often the cops come here for their coffee."

His head snapped up. His gaze darted around as if the first cops would already be waiting around the corner.

"Come with me," the professor added, "I'll even buy you a ticket wherever you want to go after you've rested. We're both dead on our feet." He added a little smile.

Zoe had no problem believing that they're brothers.

Finally, Don gave a single nod.

Victory for family.

Locking the door after them again, Zoe took the moment to think about the phone number of her mother. Maybe she would give her call, not for a ticket home, but just because.

With a small smile on her lips, she returned to her work.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 09:45 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

David stared at Colby beside him. He still looked pale and the full body armor just underlined this. He shouldn't be at a raid like this, but time was of the essence.

They even got a warrant this time. The signal of the tracker had been the key piece they needed.

Agent King led the team while David and Paul waited outside. It was a compromise to the given time frame and state of the agents.

Neither David nor Paul had gotten enough sleep. Colby, Liz, Philips, and Mitchell were dosed with a knockout gas. Only Liz had enough sense to go home and sleep it off instead of trying to tough it out. In a few hours, he would get back a fully capable agent, while still having to deal with three zombie agents.

Across the street, Agent Paul waited, as tense as they were.

They had tracked down the signal to an abandoned warehouse. Again. The alley was empty expect for a pizza van. David didn't need to know the license plate to know that it would match the one from the logs.

Around and in the van, they had detected two heat signatures. Taking into account the amount of munitions used in the safe house and the harbor, these men had to be armed to the teeth.

Agent Paul had stressed that they needed them alive to get Flynn.

"Going in." The intercom transmitted Agent King's word. "Go! Go! Go!"

A raid was always highly stressful and confusing.

But David knew that something was fundamentally wrong as the words "Federal Agents" sounded from the wrong part of the warehouse.

Now, twenty minutes later, he still couldn't believe how fundamentally wrong.

"You had no business to be here!" Agent Paul reamed out the leading DEA agent that had interrupted their operation. She had been at it since they had verified both of the men were dead.

The forensic team would later have to determine how they died. David assumed at least one took the opportunity to kill himself with a last drug dose. But he was pretty sure that his friend died in the crossfire between the FBI and the DEA.

"We have every right to be here! They killed our agent. Martin was a good friend and a good agent. You got your agent back, we still haven't even a single charge!"

"And now nobody has anything because you killed our lead."

They both stood in front of each other breathing hard.

"Now nobody will get Flynn for what he has done!"

David shared a looked with Colby. Shaking his head, he still couldn't believe how everything had gone so badly.

* * *

 _TBC_

 _Stay safe and have a nice weekend. I hope to see you again on Monday for another important reunion.  
_


	25. Memories and Resolution

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Dear other guest: thank you very much for your kind review. I hope this chapter answers a few questions._

* * *

 **MEMORIES AND RESOLUTION**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 09:50 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

"I know this house." Don stopped just around the corner.

"Of course you do, it's our home. We grew up here, and dad and I still live here." Charlie grabbed Don's sleeves to pull him forward, but Don flinched away from the touch. "Come on, we need to get away from the street."

Charlie forced his tired feet the last few remaining meters home. He unlocked the side door. Looking over his shoulder, he was relieved to still find Don behind him. His brother looked across the garden and Koi pond as if he walked through a dream. Maybe it felt like one for him.

"Come in." He opened the door wide. "I have dry clothes, and you can sleep in your old room or on the couch. You usually take the couch."

Slow and reluctant, Don entered the house.

Charlie locked the door behind them. Suddenly he froze. He smelled pancakes. Why would somebody make pancakes? He shook his head. Better question, _who_ made pancakes?

Don stared at him with wide eyes.

"Charlie, is that you?"

In a rare moment, Charlie really appreciated that his brother could read him so easily. Only the panic on his face proving that he really hadn't known that his father was home kept Don from bolting. And the locked door, of course.

"Charlie?"

He took a deep breath. Instead of a good solution, his mind only provided him with probabilities and travel times.

The heavy steps of his father neared the inner door. "Charlie?"

He needed to do something. After all the trouble he had taken on to get Don to trust him, he couldn't lose him now. He pointed to the door just as his father entered the room.

"Charlie?" He asked again. "Why didn't you answer-"

Charlie could see the moment his father laid his eyes on Don. He froze. His face reflected the storm of his emotions: shock, surprise, joy.

"Don?"

Alan opened his arms and took a step towards Don. Don stepped back. With a hurt look, he stared at Charlie and suddenly Charlie was left to explain something he hadn't words for.

So, he settled for changing the subject. "Dad. What are you doing here? I thought you were still at the airport."

"I live here. I came home as fast as possible when David called me." Confusion changed to accusation on Alan's face. "What are you doing here? David told me that Don is under their protection and we couldn't see him."

Don had taken another step back, his back already against the wall.

"Dad, it's a long story, but Don really can't remember much. And he doesn't trust us. Oh, and he doesn't like to be touched." Charlie underlined his words with nodding.

Alan pressed his lips together.

"So, I persuaded him to come home with me to get dry clothes, something to eat and some sleep. Then we can figure out what to do."

"I'll just go," Don insisted. The tension was slowly fading as Charlie kept talking to protect him.

"Is that so? Okay, then I want to hug you first." Alan took another step towards Don.

Charlie jumped forward and intercepted his father. "Dad, really. You can't touch him. He doesn't want it."

"Charlie," Alan took him by his shoulders and moved him to the side, "Don is my son. I love him. And I will hug him because the last six months, I thought the only time I'd see him again would be as we buried him, so nobody, not even you, Charlie, will stand in my way."

Don stepped sideways and away from the wall.

"Dad!" Charlie tried again. But his father just faced Don and opened his arms.

"You are my son, and whether you remember this or not, I love you and I missed you. So please, give your old man a hug."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest again as Don suddenly moved. He kept it open in surprise because Don was actually letting himself be hugged.

Alan enclosed him in his embrace and said a prayer. Don stood stiffly and without moving, but he allowed the touch.

How did his father achieve something in a few minutes that Charlie hadn't been able to do in a whole day and night?

"Um, dad?" Charlie started after he got over his shock. "You need to let Don breathe. I promised him clothes and food and sleep."

Alan let him go. "Of course. I just made some pancakes." He looked down. "I guess they remind me of Don, and I thought it-"

"I am hungry enough to eat anything. Pancakes are good." Charlie said just to say something.

With a new goal, Alan stormed into the kitchen to make some more. Charlie remained with Don.

"You okay?"

Don shook his head.

For a moment, Charlie didn't know what to do with an answer like that. Don had always answered in the affirmative. He was always fine, never troubled or sad.

"I need to go."

This was more familiar territory, and Charlie longed for his father to come back and create another miracle. Up until now, the hard truth had served Charlie well, so he continued with it. He could always run to dad and get him to make Don stay.

"I know," he answered, "but this is really good, actually. Dad and I are well aware that you're not a fan of emotional conversations. Just come in and eat something. No more hugs or talking."

He indicated with his chin to the door. "Are you coming?" He took a step to the door. He wanted to grab his brother and force him to come home. But he remembered Dr. Bradford's words about trust. It would need time and effort.

Maybe it was time for a little tit for tat for himself. He had to trust Don and hope that Don would return the favor.

With a heavy heart, he went through the door. It fell shut behind him.

Alan looked up from his work. His eyes were full of questions and fear. Charlie still felt ill around Don, and he had had more than twenty-four hours to get used to the new Don. His father hadn't had the same time to understand it. How was he supposed to explain to him about the safe house, the subsequent attack on the safe house, and their flight from David and the FBI?

Now in broad daylight, he wasn't even sure that the safe house had been attacked. Only his damp clothes reminded him. Time, he needed time to analyze the situation. Time to run numbers about how to deal best with Don and the FBI. He never anticipated a situation where he would be between the FBI and Don. The FBI and Don had always been a unit.

Carefully, the door behind him opened.

Charlie released a breath in relief. His trust had been repaid.

"I should go. The FBI and some men who want me dead are all looking for me. I'll just get you in trouble."

Alan put down the plate. "Yeah, well, I don't care."

Don frowned, his forehead wrinkled. "Charlie, I believe that you're my brother, and I guess I also have to believe that this is my father, but because of that, I don't want to get you in trouble. I should just go until-"

"No." Alan cut in. "No. You are my son and if somebody wants something from you, they have to get through me first." He crossed his arms.

Charlie smiled wryly at his dad's words. He hadn't been shot at; hadn't felt the terror created by men with assault weapons. He hadn't been playing hide and seek with trained killers.

"Don, stay, please." Charlie added his own words. "I promise you, Agent Sinclair is our friend. If someone gets close, we'll call him, but you've already helped the FBI track them down." He studiously ignored his father's startled glance.

"They have probably already arrested them, so we are safe." He never thought that a lie would come so easily over his lips as just now. But the desire to keep Don close was just too strong. "Nobody knows where we are. Relax. Stay."

Don took a step in and looked over the table with pancakes and syrup. "Just like that?"

Alan nodded. "Just like that."

"But you don't know me."

"I know that you're my son. That's enough for me." He returned to his work as if there was nothing more to be said.

There really was nothing more to be said.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 11:30 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

Joe Flynn sat down. He stared at his trembling hands still holding his phone.

"Who was that?" His wife Doris stood in the doorway.

"My lawyer."

She slowly came in. "What did he want?"

For a moment, Joe didn't know what to say. Finally, he offered, "The FBI had a warrant for one of my empty buildings."

She sat down next to her husband. "And?"

"They followed a tracker signal back to the car from the attack. He wasn't sure what else they got, but he warned me that this time they will come knocking."

She folded her hands. Her fingernails were dirty from the garden. They could hire a gardener, but she liked to do the work herself. Since Matthew's death, she spent more time in the garden than in the house.

"We knew that this would happen."

"Yes." He gave her a sad smile.

They sat together in silence.

"What now?"

In the beginning, he hadn't thought this far ahead. Revenge had clouded any vision of the future. But lately, he'd given a great deal of thought to what came next.

"I'm going to ask you a favor."

"Name it," she shot back. Her fingers found his fingers and wrapped around them.

"I need you to take a vacation."

"What?" She jerked her hand back.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "If you take a vacation, you're out of the line of fire."

"If I leave you now, it means I let you face the consequences alone."

"You aren't responsible."

"I gave you an address. I knew what happened six months ago. I knew the last two days you planned to eliminate Don Eppes. I did not call the police or tell a single soul. I am as responsible as you through my silence."

He had always loved this about his Doris. Her strength was a balm. "Okay, then I'm asking you to take care of some business for me."

She jumped up and turned away from him. For a long moment, she only showed him her back, but then turned. Tears streamed down her face. "What are you planning?"

"Money. Money solved a lot of my problems. I'll try to buy myself out." He had thought long and hard about it. "But there are risks involved."

"Does this mean you'll stop trying to have the agent killed?" She crossed her arms.

"Maybe."

She shook her head. "Do you really believe that killing Don Eppes will bring justice for Matthew's death? You keep telling yourself that you'll feel better. But nothing helps against this pain. All of this has just prolonged the mourning. You don't and won't feel better just by breaking Robin Brooks' heart."

Joe Flynn looked down, ashamed. He knew that his wife was right, but he couldn't stop. "As long as he is alive, it feels like she wins and I still lose. His death would even the score."

She stared at him for a long moment before turning away. "I'll go. Don't follow unless you're back to being the man I married. Because the man I married would have never wanted to kill a man that was an innocent party to his trouble. Not after he has realized that he had acted unjustly and done wrong."

She marched to the door. In the doorway, she lingered. "I still love you and hope you won't take too long to come."

Her perfume remained heavy in the air long after she had closed the door behind her and the taxi had driven off.

She would be fine. If he just finished what he had started, if Don Eppes would just disappear, everything would be fine again. He just had to believe it.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 12:05 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

Agent Paul was livid.

She stormed through the office to the conference room as if the target of her anger was waiting for her there.

David and Colby walked slower, but not with less anger.

"What the heck was the DEA doing there?" Colby could not stop with this question. David had not commented on it because he had a suspicion about that. Agent Richard Miller had repeatedly called and texted him that he hadn't done anything. He had promised he hadn't talked to anybody. David wasn't so sure about it, but also wasn't inclined to discuss it.

"David. Anything new about Don?" Liz appeared with her arms full of files. She looked far healthier than the last time he had seen her.

"No," he shook his head, "nothing. He is in the wind. At least we know that he is with Charlie."

"So we actually have to go looking for a mathematician." Behind Liz, Nikki appeared. "Because I am really good at looking for math geeks."

David plumbed down on his chair. "I am sure that whatever you dug out from the files is really important."

"Sure, but nothing -"

The elevator dinged and ADIC Wright entered the floor. His entrance wasn't quite as noted as a four-star general on a military base, but it definitely caused a stir.

David stood up. The director found his gaze and pointed to the conference room. David nodded.

"I hope you have something for this meeting, because at the moment it looks bad," he said and looked pointedly at Nikki and Liz.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of material," Liz said with one her sarcastic smiles.

"You just won't like it." Nikki was more expressive in her opinion.

David pulled her aside. "Nikki, remember, we are going to talk to the Assistant Director of the FBI. Think before you speak, please."

The conference room filled slowly. David brought Don's team, or his team. Agent Paul came alone because her agents were still managing the scene or providing protection. Technicians and several junior agents added to the already full room.

"Okay. Close the door please." Director Wright ordered the agent nearest to the door. "Let's start with Agent Eppes. Do we know his location and status?" He looked straight at David and Paul.

"We had contact with Charlie Eppes, who assured us that he and Don Eppes are fine. We had no contact with Don Eppes directly. We currently have no location for him."

"How do you plan to find him?"

"We're hoping that Charlie's presence will make it easier to track him down."

"What about a BOLO or other agencies?"

"We refrained from issuing a BOLO because we don't want to alert Joe Flynn or anybody else to his former location or that we also don't know where he is. Also, Don's already reluctant to interact with law enforcement. We'd like to prevent a confrontation." David carefully laid bare their reasoning. Why Paul had agreed to them, he still wasn't sure.

Director Wright raised an eyebrow, but left it without a comment. "How big is the threat level?"

"Flynn is scattering. His wife has booked a flight to Europe in a few hours." Agent Paul reported. "It would have been very helpful to get some information about who Flynn hired. All indications are that he's continuing his little revenge plot, and if the attack on the safe house is anything to go by, it will only get worse."

"What happened at the safe house?"

Colby cleared his throat. "Forensics found a slow-release mechanism for the poison gas. It penetrated the vent system, and neither Agent Mitchell nor I were even aware that something was wrong. We just … fell asleep."

He sighed. "Don had closed all of his vents upstairs. The gas couldn't reach him, and he climbed down from the balcony. Until we talk to him, we're not even sure how he knew something was wrong.

"From the balcony, footprints go to the harbor. We lost them there. We're assuming that Charlie was still with Don."

"Based on the location of the truck-stop Charles Eppes used to call in, they reached the hiking trail and followed it," Agent Paul finished without missing a beat. "Somewhere along the way, Agent Eppes removed his tracker and put it in the van used by the attacker."

"Yes, and we all know how that ended." A dark look flickered across the face of the ADIC. "Let's hope the DEA has a good reason for this idiocy."

"Agent Sinclair."

"Yes sir?"

"Send out a BOLO. We need all the help we can get."

"Yes, sir."

Nikki jumped up. "This isn't a good idea, sir."

Colby groaned and put his head down. David shook his head. It was the thing he had warned her about.

"Oh, and why would that be?"

Nikki appeared unconcerned about the dangerous tone of her boss. "Because of Newtown PD Detectives Torres and Reed. They managed to arrest Don, sorry John Smith, several times for various bogus things. Torres and Reed were sure that he was faking the amnesia and that he was a major drug dealer. They were really out to get him to the point that their own captain started to get worried."

"John Smith?"

Liz piped up, "That's what the courts used when he couldn't remember his own name."

"From the beginning." Wright ordered. "And make it short."

"Yes, sir." Liz looked down on her notebook. "Five days after the attack on Robin Brooks and Don Eppes, the NPD raided a known drug house and arrested everybody. In the cellar, they found a man overdosing. The hospital saved his life. The detectives ran his fingerprints but found nothing. One of their witnesses or informants reported that he was the main dealer. But his lack of memory and any other evidence destroyed their case.

"At the same house, two other men were arrested, Daniel Holland and Stu Hall." Liz brought up two pictures to the screen mounted on the wall.

At least half of the room took a deep audible breath.

"Like many of you know, they were killed in a shootout with the FBI and DEA this morning."

Agent Paul cursed and threw her pen down. "We could have linked everything together through them!"

"They would have had to talk, because on paper, they have nothing to do with Flynn. Both are ex-Army, dishonorably discharged after they failed several drug tests. Since then, they have dealt and used drugs, all small-time. They were your typical thugs.

"I am still waiting for their complete Army files. But the police reports suggest that Stu Hall is a likely candidate to shoot at bullet proof glass until it either breaks or he kills himself."

"There are three sets of prints in the van. We don't have a match for the third set. Maybe the original owner or their gun dealer. If he's smart, he is already gone."

"What is it with the fingerprints in this office, actually?" Agent Paul picked up her pen. "I mean, no match for this guy, no match for John Smith, who is very obviously Don Eppes, whose prints should be on file."

Matt Li raised his hand. "Actually, ma'am, I can explain this." At the nod from the ADIC, he continued. "There are two sets of fingerprint databases. The central database is for every agency and the internal database regulates the access to buildings, files, and so on. The internal database is highly secure, only a few people have access. However, the central database is optimized for easy access for a lot of police departments and agencies."

He held up two sets of fingerprints. "If I compare the internal fingerprint set from Agent Eppes with the one in the central database, they don't match."

"They should match," Liz pointed out.

Matt Li nodded. "Yes, they should. Every single check that failed, like the fingerprints from the parking lot from Professor Eppes and the fingerprints from NPD match the internal set, but not the central system."

"Do we know why?" David tried to keep up with the flow of information.

"Yes," Matt Li glanced around the room. "The fingerprints in the central database were updated on March 26."

"The day Don was abducted?"

The senior technician nodded. "Shortly before midnight, they were accessed and changed. It's not really a hack so much as a regular update."

"Who was the logged user or agency?" Wright asked.

Li bit his lip nervously. "I checked it several times, but the login credentials match … they match Martin Ward."

Everybody was surprised. Agent Paul was the loudest. "What?"

"The entry was changed with the credentials of Martin Ward. I don't know if it was him or if somebody used his access. But it was not a hack or manipulation of the system."

Every agent in the room ran through the implications of the information. Was it possible that he had to give up his code? Or had he helped willingly?

"The fingerprints," Colby started, "they are real fingerprints, just not Don's, right?"

"Yes."

"Whose fingerprints were used to replace Don's?" Colby had creases in his forehead as if he already knew the answer.

"Hmm," Matt Li looked at his computer and tapped some keys. "I haven't run an analysis yet. But it should be easy because they can be matched without a technician…."

David saw the moment his computer had found a result. Matt Li paled and swallowed hard. Then he looked up and caught his eyes.

"Matthew Flynn."

Paul shot out of her chair. "That -" she stopped herself in time of using inappropriate language in front of her boss even if he wouldn't mind. "He is playing with us!"

 _And he is playing us well_ , David thought.

* * *

 _TBC_


	26. Meetings

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thanks to everybody for reading. And thank you other guest for such a nitty-gritty review!_

* * *

 **MEETINGS**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 13:30 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Charlie's eyes snapped open at the sound of the door opening. He had been resting his eyes in the armchair next to the couch where Don was sleeping.

"Charles?"

He put his finger to his lips just as Don jerked awake on the couch. His warning to Larry had come too late. Don flung his blanket off and looked around with wild eyes.

The professor jumped up, his own blanket falling down on the floor. "Everything is okay. It's just Larry. He is a friend." He moved his hands in a calming gesture. "Everything is fine."

He gave his friend a spare glance.

Larry stood in the middle of the room looking confused. He scratched his head. Staring at the door and then to Don and back, he asked, "Did I just enter an alternate universe?"

Amita walked in behind him, closing the door before stopping short at the scene in front of her. She looked as shocked as Larry.

She took a tentative step towards Don, who was still breathing in short gasps. "Don?"

Charlie stepped between his brother and girlfriend by taking her into his arms. "Don, this is my girlfriend Amita." He squeezed her hand trying to convey to play along. "And this is Larry. A friend of the family. You actually know him."

Don stood in a fight stance. His eyes darted around the room.

"Wasn't Don supposed to be under FBI protection?" Amita whispered.

"Yeah, about that ... ," Charlie swallowed. "Could you maybe not see him?"

Larry laughed a little. "I don't think it is possible to see what is not there."

He took a step toward Don who fought visibly against the reflex to jerk back. "My friend Don. It warms my heart that you have rejoined us. You have been missed." He carefully clapped Don on the shoulder.

Charlie released a breath. Larry had thankfully managed to greet him carefully.

"I don't think I was ever more grateful and thankful to be proven wrong." Amita extended her hand to Don. "I promise you a hug after you remember me."

Don accepted the handshake, but his eyes still searched the room for clues or hidden surprises.

"Lunch is ready."

Charlie started at the unexpected voice of his father but Don jerked and whirled around so fast he almost toppled over.

"I wanted to make rib-eye, but we don't have anything here and I didn't want to leave you boys alone, so it is only something light." His eyes never left Don. With visible effort, he managed to look at Larry and Amita, who still stood close to Charlie. "You of course are also invited."

"Thank you, Alan, I am sure that your meal will provide necessary sustenance." Larry started toward the table.

Amita and Charlie followed slowly.

"I need a moment, I -" Don pointed to the bathroom and hurried away.

Alan raised his eyebrows. "I don't know whether to rejoice about his knowledge of where the bathroom is or to be afraid at how easily he is startled."

"David said that this is a consequence of the last six months. He had no place to recuperate and relax. He worked double shifts to pay his bills," Charlie said.

"How do you restart with nothing?" Amita sat down. "I mean, if I suddenly lost everything of value, my house, or my money or job, I'd still have my family, my education, and my friends. I could send in my CV for a job and list references. But if you have nothing? No past, no money, no memory, no family, and no friend? Where do you even begin to rebuild your life?" She shook her head. "I can't imagine the stress and pressure he has been under. No safety net, no backup plan, nothing."

Larry rubbed at his lip while Charlie and Alan gave each other a long look.

Alan clapped his hands together. "I don't know how he did it, but I am glad that he did, so I may now have the chance to get my son back."

"Then you're the only one." Don returned from the bathroom. His face had lost even more color. "Because everybody else thinks that I am a bad guy."

"I don't think so. And neither does the FBI." Charlie crossed his arms. "Why can't you believe us?"

Don raised his eyebrows. "You have to ask?"

He sat down and stared at his plate.

Charlie caught the glare of his father, relaxed his arms and sat down too.

"Enjoy your meal!" Alan said.

Everybody started to eat except Don, who stared lost at the grilled toast with chess and tomatoes.

"I can make you something else if you don't want to -" Alan put his sandwich down and started to reach for Don's plate.

"No." He grabbed his plate and held it. "It's just... When did you stop praying before eating? I just thought ... When Jack did it, it seemed so familiar..." He shrugged helplessly.

Alan dropped his hand. "We didn't stop. Not really." He shrugged as he gave Charlie a questioning look. "It's just been a while since we've had a meal together. We lost the rhythm, and then I guess we didn't really think about it." He wearily rubbed his forehead.

Don nodded. He grabbed the sandwich and bit in. "'S good," he said after he swallowed the first bite.

"What is good? The explanation or the food?"

"Both. But I meant the explanation because not a single sentence of giving grace seemed familiar. And none of Jack's seemed to match."

"Who is Jack?"

Don froze. He swallowed. "Not important. Just somebody who helped me in Newtown."

"I think that makes him important." Alan said and gave now Don a significant look. "I at least would like to thank him."

"Yeah, you can do that by forgetting his name. Because if the police get his name, they will probably prosecute him for anything and everything."

"Which gets us back to the beginning of this conversation." Charlie finished the last bit of his sandwich.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you believe us, or the FBI? I am your brother, and they are your friends. We helped you, they want to protect you ..." He shrugged, the incomprehension clearly visibly on his face.

Don shook his head. "Maybe my understanding of co-workers and friends is different from yours, but I don't want to have co-workers and friends who constantly threaten me, take away my few possessions, and lock me up. Do you put an ankle monitor on all your friends?"

"That isn't true. It's not like that."

"Your Agent Paul is constantly threatening to throw me into jail and not letting me leave again until I help her to get somebody. Apparently, the fact that I'm supposedly a material witnesses makes it easy for them to lock me up indefinitely." Don balled his fists. "So, if I don't start to remember, and believe me, I have tried nothing else for the last six months, I will end up in jail without even knowing why."

Alan stood up. He had gone pale. "That is not going to happen. I will not let this happen!"

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, "it's not going to happen because you are going to remember. You just need rest, food, sleep, and no stress."

Don laughed out loud. "No stress? Like going to lock-up if you don't meet a deadline? That kind of no stress?"

"Nothing on the MRI indicated any permanent damage. A lot is already healed. You just have to be patient. And so does Agent Paul. But David wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Amita made herself smaller with each argument.

"Believe me," Charlie repeated. "Just give it time, you will remember. It would be easier and less stressful if you could trust us."

Don lowered his head and rubbed it. "And what if I don't remember?"

"You will," Charlie said with conviction. "Everything is in your favor. I am sure that you will remember."

Shaking his head, Don looked away, tired and hurt.

"And if you don't," Alan suddenly said in the silence, "I will hire every lawyer in the country to get you out. I won't let this woman lock you up indefinitely."

As Don raised his head to look sideways to dad who continued with an air of self-assurance. "And then we will first sue the government and then the FBI. After we get you out, I'll hire a private bodyguard and you can help me in the garden." Alan sat down again. "These old knees can't do the work alone anymore."

Don stared at him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"It means: don't worry." Alan tapped on the table with his finger. "Whether you remember or not, you belong to us, and we will fight for you and your freedom. I have experience in fighting the government."

Charlie rolled his eyes, but he had to give it his dad, he knew how to deal with Don, far better than he did.

"Don, how bad is your headache?" Amita asked carefully. "I can bring you a pill-"

"No drugs!" Don snapped. "I have had enough of the consequences of drugs for a lifetime."

"I don't think that pain and headaches help your stress," Charlie added his argument.

"I said no drugs. I don't take any drugs." His eyes narrowed.

"Then why don't you try to sleep it off? That should help with your headache and your memory," Alan the peacemaker proposed.

Don nodded and stood up. "Thank you for the food and shelter. I probably should go-"

Alan remained sitting. "After you've slept your headache off. You can't even think straight right now."

Looking unsure between the door and the couch, Don gave a short nod and then trotted off to the couch. "Thanks."

Larry pushed his plate away. In the silence of the room it sounded unnaturally loud. "The mind is a strange thing. It is almost like the universe, vast and magnificent, but with only a few discovered elements, and only one planet inhabited by intelligent beings. In our mind there is so much, yet it means so little if we lose the anchor point that brings order to the vastness and holds it together."

Nobody said anything after this.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 13:50 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

"Sorry I am late," DA Howard Meeks entered the room. "The defense team called for a meeting."

"Defense team?" David asked wearily. He hoped that it wasn't him that had to bring the DA up to speed on the newest revelations.

"Yeah, the defense team from Steven Twist and Sergey Kirkan." He stopped his rummaging of his files and looked up. "We are still talking about Don Eppes here?"

"Yes, we are. You just missed the ADIC." Agent Paul said.

After ADIC Wright had left, a lot of non-essential agents and technicians had also left and returned to their work.

"It doesn't matter who I talk to. The only thing that matters it that the defense knows that Don Eppes is alive and they plan to call him to the stand. We need to find him and ensure that his testimony is not more harmful than helpful." He looked straight at David. "Is it true, that he is missing?"

"At the moment, we don't know his location. But he is with his brother and therefore not missing."

DA Meeks halted his movements and stared at David. "Then why didn't you just get him and bring him back?"

"Because currently Don Eppes mistrusts every law enforcement officer."

Howard Meeks raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You got the memo about the memory holes?" David asked and sat up straight.

"Yeah, drug overdose, brain damage, should heal with time and rest."

"Right. So he has only his most current experience with law enforcement as the basis of his assumptions. They weren't exactly good experiences."

To his credit, Howard Meeks only pressed his lips together and didn't ask for a clarification. He could probably feel the exhaustion in the room. "I'll wait for the report." He sighed. "Anything new on the Flynn front?"

"A lot of missed opportunities."

"So my current case will fall apart if one of my victims either misses his court date, is unreliable or at worst, helpful for the defense. And we still have nothing to bring Flynn down."

Liz gave the prosecutor a hard stare. "We're back to tracing the money. Neither Twist and Kirkan, nor Holland and Hall, would have worked for free. They are not linked to Flynn through loyalty, so it has to be money."

DA Meeks nodded "Okay. So ... get Eppes, wait until he remembers, and build a case. That's still the way to go?"

"Yes."

"Okay. You should start with the getting part. If you have Eppes under protection, I can delay questioning on medical grounds, but we need him in our custody-," he glanced around the room and corrected himself, "protection. We need him in our protection."

AUSA Meeks nodded to the room. "I am going to inform the judge. Call me, day or night, with any new development. Good luck."

After he left, the agents remained seated. The short night, the high adrenaline, and the despair laid like fog over the room.

Agent Paul spoke up. "We're missing something."

David raised his eyebrows at the strange observation.

She caught his gaze and gave him a grimace. "I knew Martin Ward. He would never give up his credentials just like that." She flicked her fingers.

"You knew Agent Ward?" This was new.

"Not like you think, Agent Sinclair," Paul hissed. Then she rubbed at her eyes. "He saved my life when he decided on his own to stop an undercover mission."

David just continued to look at her.

"I was undercover and I was in way over my head. But my handler thought that everything was fine. Suddenly everything shifted and I got a meet and greet with one of the most dangerous drug dealers in town. It was everything you needed to make a career, and I was willing to take the risk. But before I could get evidence, the DEA raided the building."

She snorted. "The blowup was roughly the same as now. But Agent Ward came to check on me. I was angry, I lashed out. It took several years until I understood that he saved my life because I would have never gotten anything on the drug dealer and would have lost my life for nothing."

She looked in the distance. "He knew how to take pressure and how to deal with it. I don't believe that he would just roll over because somebody pointed a gun at his head. It would take more pressure and more time." She pinched the bridge of her nose as her shoulder slumped. "He had neither."

"So your personal vendetta against Flynn is not against Flynn but to find the murderer of Martin Ward?" Nikki asked and David had the second time this day the urge to hit something. Preferably Nikki's head.

"It's not a personal vendetta. He deserves justice."

Nikki opened her mouth, but Colby beat her. "So we're looking for a hacker that not only used Matthew Flynn's fingerprints but also Martin Ward's password?"

"No hacker," Matt Li interrupted. "There is absolutely nothing in the logs to indicate an attempt. The ID and password was right on the first try. Whoever sent it, knew it by heart."

Every agent in the room mulled over the information.

"Okay." David stood up. It was time to do the boss thing.

"Liz, you and Colby try to find Don and Charlie. If you have an idea, go. You probably have the best chance to talk to him." Liz nodded.

"Nikki, check Agent Ward's wife, friends, family." He counted on his fingers. "Find out who he trusted, who could have the password. Check if he was suspicious of somebody around him."

"Why can't I help to look for Don? I know this city really well."

David bit the inside of his lip. "Find me a way to connect Flynn to the murder of Martin Ward and the attempted murder of Don, and you can go looking for him."

Agent Paul gave him a glare. "You do realize that I lead this investigation."

"I do, ma'am," David agreed. "I'm just trying to repay a favor." She gave him a long look, then a tiny nod. She understood the favor he offered. She didn't have to do her job and investigate her rescuer, she could just concentrate on the job at hand.

"Okay people. I know that a lot of these investigations are already running, so I'm just repeating myself. We need to find out how our safe house was compromised. How did they know the house, the layout? Where did they get the money from, the guns and the gas? Find out what gas exactly was used and how to trace it.

"We still have an unknown third person in the van. Where is the van from? What about the warehouse? How long has it been used or unused and so on. You know your jobs." She clapped her hands together. "I know that you're all eager to get Agent Eppes back and me off your back, so the faster we solve this, the faster we can go our separate ways."

She pirouetted and walked to the door.

David narrowed his eyes. This wasn't the reaction he expected. She was too eager to go her own way without her usual micromanaging.

Colby shot a questioning glance his way. David shrugged.

He needed to keep an eye on her. Again.

* * *

 _TBC_


	27. Meetings II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you very much for reading, and thank you Mega07ghost and Other Guest for your well-grounded thoughts and continuous reviews. I appreciate it._

* * *

 **MEETINGS II**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 14:00 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David stopped Nikki from leaving and asked her to join him.

"Sorry, sorry," Nikki said before David could open his mouth. "I know I wasn't supposed to talk to the ADIC like that, but I couldn't let him go hunting for Don."

David sighed. "You said NPD Detectives Torres and Reed were out to get him. Anything else except the arrest records?"

Nikki took a deep breath. "I talked to them on the phone, and they didn't believe me that their John Smith is our Don Eppes. They simply refused to consider that option. So I started to ask around."

Somehow David knew that he wouldn't like what Nikki had uncovered. He let go of the door and went to the table. He would have preferred a coffee but cool water should have a better effect on his nerves.

"Did you also talk to the shelter?"

"Oh, yes. I talked to a Jack House. For somebody who spent his whole life with lowlifes, he was certainly a nice guy."

"And...," David prompted as Nikki fell silent. A silent Nikki was never a good sign.

"He told me stories about how Torres and Reed would randomly drop by and find something to arrest Don for. They searched his stuff at least once a week. According to House, they always managed to 'accidentally' destroy something."

David took a sip of his water and sighed again. "So they really believed him to be a drug dealer?"

"Yeah," Nikki said, "and Torres was especially bad about it. She had lost her little sister to a drug overdose just a few months before. She really wanted to find the drug supplier."

"And they thought it was Don?"

She nodded. "They made his life a living hell. He found a job; they found him and told everybody that he was drug dealer. Guess how long he had the job?"

Nikki balled her fist. "This happened again and again. If he talked to anybody about an apartment or a place to live, they found out about it. How long do you think you are going to put up with unwarranted visits by the police? He couldn't find a place to stay. The shelter had rules and regulations, and Jack House routinely stretched them to allow him back in, but Don still spent several nights on the street."

David sighed. "That explains his reaction."

"I know." Nikki looked down. "But I haven't even told you about the jail stuff."

"Jail?"

"Like I said, Torres and Reed were out to get him. He ended up in jail a few times without any good reasons. It usually took only a few hours or days at most for him to be released, but everything he had accomplished until then had been destroyed by then." Nikki started to pace to walk off the angry energy.

Rubbing at his forehead, David sat down. "So Jack House sent him to LA to get away from NPD?"

"Yep," Nikki nodded. "But I haven't even told you about the hospital, have I?"

"There's more? I don't think I want to know."

"No, you don't, because I am ready to drive north and tell these bright and upstanding detectives what -"

"Nikki," David interrupted them, "don't judge them until you've been in their shoes."

"I would never -"

"Don't," David interrupted her again, "don't say what you would never do, because the day when you know somebody is guilty but you can't prove it is just around the corner. Then you will do the same thing they did. It's sometimes the only kind of justice available."

"I don't think that you or boss man ever got thrown out of a hospital room because you didn't let a patient sleep for even a moment. Dr. McLaren even filled an official complaint."

"Dr. McLaren?" The name seemed familiar.

"Yeah Don already talked about her. She was the lady doctor who treated him. She also helped him with the bills and the hospital. Her husband is the lawyer who got Don a new name through the courts. She also had a lot of bad things to say about NPD." Nikki crossed her arms. "So I had to warn you. When Paul got the notebook, he probably honestly and with good reason thought she would either destroy it or take it away or use it against him. It's what Torres and Reed would have done. And -"

"I get it," David said. "I get it. His only working memories of LEO interaction are filled with despair and anger." Letting his head fall back against the rest, he closed his eyes. He would love to share Nikki's anger at the detectives, but he couldn't. He had done the same to some extense, and he would probably do the same again. It had always seemed right and justified, but now it hurt on behalf of his friend.

David nodded. "Thanks, and -" Nikki turned around in the door frame. "Good work."

She smiled and then left.

He needed a little sleep. All the other agents had left the conference room, so he simply leaned back. In the middle of the board, two pictures glared at him: Don from before and Don now. They looked the same and yet completely different.

The pictures followed him as he closed his eyes and took a few minutes rest.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 14:05 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

The numbers flowed through his mind and his hand worked hard to keep up with its speed to write it down.

Charlie was a man on a mission.

His mission: protect his brother.

His weapon of choice: math.

It was time to prove just how reliable math could be. He needed to protect his brother from Agent Paul.

While his father thought that a lawyer could do something, Charlie knew better. Not even Robin would have been able to stop her. She had the law on her side despite how unfair it was.

No, the best solution was to keep her away from Don by providing her the necessary evidence through other means.

Don mistrusted him and the FBI, but he still talked about the things he remembered. This was a new starting point for his expressions.

Nikki had called Amita to ask for help and dropped two names: Stu Hall and Daniel Holland.

Amita had asked subtly for more information while also helping Nikki determine what was necessary for a login with another user name in the database.

After they had ended their call, Amita threw her cell phone on the sofa in the garage and hugged him.

"They got them. They got your attacker." Then she sobered up. "But they are both dead. Now they're back on the hunt for Don."

They only shared a quick kiss before they returned to work. Now their time frame got even smaller. Together, they ran the numbers, calculations, and expressions. He knew what he needed to do but it was delightful to see his girlfriend trying to keep up and wishing to help Don as much as he did.

"Do you really think that the garage is the right place for you to be?"

Charlie jerked and lost his grip on the chalk. "Larry!"

"Shouldn't you be spending time with your brother?"

Shaking his head, Charlie responded, "I am more needed here. I can't help Don. He doesn't even trust me. But here," he pointed to the boards, "here I can actually help. If I can find the connection between Holland and Hall and Flynn, then Agent Paul won't need Don and they will leave him alone."

Larry nodded. "I see." He looked around the garage, noting the old network equation. "This situation begs the question: what would you prefer if you were in his situation?"

Charlie sighed. "Don doesn't trust me. I think dad is far better qualified to help him. I always say the wrong thing."

"I don't think that you say the wrong thing. You're just not used to seeing this side of Don." Amita joined the conversation.

"What side?"

"So insecure and hurting. Don always hid what he felt, and he's still trying, but it's almost impossible now."

"I thought more about the reverse: would you prefer Don to be the FBI agent and work the case or you would prefer Don the brother sitting by you and accepting and helping you?"

Charlie raised his eyebrow. "I am not an FBI agent."

"It's the reverse case. In your situation, it's a question if it's better to be Charlie the brother or Charlie the math professor," Larry clarified.

The math professor narrowed his eyes. "I don't think that's even possible to separate. I am always the math guy and the brother."

Larry rubbed thoughtful at his lips. "My point exactly." He turned on his heels and strolled back into the house.

Amita lowered her head to hide the smile that bloomed on her face.

"What?"

Now Amita laughed openly at his confused expression. "You are in the garage far away from your brother, maybe Larry means that you should try to mix in a little more brother. By being both."

"But these equations are important, I can't just -"

Amita pushed him to the door. "Take your laptop, and I will send you the results while you start the mapping progress. In the living room."

Before Charlie could really protest, his girlfriend had already shifted him into the house and returned to the garage.

He _could_ probably start the mapping and then return to the garage. His friends meant well, but they were completely off base. He knew what he needed to do. To help his brother, he needed to have something for Agent Paul before she took his brother away.

What was he supposed to do in the living room for Don? He was sleeping. Taking into account Don's stubbornness, the time it took to succumb to the offer and to actually fell asleep, Charlie calculated a really high level of pain. He had to have been in serious pain to accept it this easily.

A repeat of the argument wouldn't generate new results.

"No ... no ..." Don started to get fidgety. He tossed his head from one side to the other.

"Shh..." Alan leaned forward, his hand hovering about Don's shoulder but not touching it. "Shh... everything is fine."

Charlie stared with opened mouth at the scene in front him. Don calmed down.

"Shh..."

Keeping quiet, Charlie remained rooted in place and waited until every motion stopped. Counting the breaths, Charlie waited until Don was deep asleep again.

Alan came to the same conclusion and stood back. He turned and looked at Charlie.

They met each other halfway. "Good, you're here. I'll be back in a minute. If he gets restless, just calm him down." Alan squeezed his shoulder and left him alone before he could utter his protest.

He put down his laptop on the small table and booted it up. While waiting for his laptop and his father to come back, Charlie watched his brother. He looked even worse than after the stabbing. Of all the things, it had to be the stabbing that had shown a good value by providing the easily identifiable scar.

"How is he doing?" Alan returned.

"Back already? I thought you and Larry had conspired against me to get me to watch Don?"

Alan shook his head. "No. Larry went back to CalSci before everybody comes here to look for them." He pointed to the garage. "Amita should do the same before Nikki comes looking for her here."

With a slight look of panic, Charlie sprinted to the garage. Amita looked startled and then horrified at the thought. She left the garage in a hurry and drove off. She promised to send him the progress she'd made.

Coming back in, Charlie wandered through the kitchen. In all the years of living with his father, the kitchen had never looked like this. Charlie halted. Pots and plates lay half rinsed off in the sink. The table was full of garbage. He could even see the dirty pan from the pancakes.

"Dad," Charlie wandered back in the living room. "What happened to the kitchen?"

"Kitchen?"

"It looks ... " Charlie searched for the right word before he settled on a general term. "...bad."

"Oh." Alan returned his gaze to Don. "The dishes will still be here long after he is already gone."

"Dad," Charlie sat down next to his father at the table. They both had full line of sight of Don but were still far enough away to talk in hushed tones without waking him.

"We got him back." He put his hand on his father's shoulder. "He is alive and on our couch."

Alan pressed his lips together. "Yes, but I have a feeling I am going to lose him again long before we run out of dishes."

"How?"

"Either because he runs away, or because the FBI takes him away, or because this Flynn guy takes him again." Alan sighed. "I don't know which would be worse, anymore."

Charlie kept silent. He didn't have anything to say except, "I am working on eliminating two of the possibilities."

His father raised his head. "Yes?"

Nodding, he explained: "If my original network analysis can connect the two men to Flynn Logistics, then the FBI can prove that Joe Flynn was behind the attack by hiring the men. Then neither Flynn nor the FBI will take Don. The FBI is only interested in his protection and his witness statement. Without that, they have time and David can leave him alone."

Alan nodded. Then he looked off in the distance. "How is Robin doing?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't talk to her since I left the hospital and went to Don."

"She doesn't know where you are?" He sounded shocked.

"It was hard enough to talk Don into calling David. You saw yourself how determined he is to run away."

Alan nodded.

Charlie opened his mouth to continue when Don made a noise and both of them stilled. Alan stood up but Don settled again without intervention.

"What I wanted to ask you: why aren't you more worried about Flynn? Why aren't you helping me to push Don back into protection? We both know that this is not a safe place in the long term."

Alan raised his eyebrow. "You don't know?"

"What do I not know?"

His father leaned forward. "David called me to warn me that Agent Paul sent Agent Andrew to protect me and to keep me under surveillance because she didn't want to risk that I'd also get lost. David asked me to accept it because he doesn't know how Flynn would react. They think there is a possibility that he will use me or you to get to Don."

Charlie jumped up. "What? They know we are here?"

"I am pretty sure that they know because not only do they have a car parked in front of the house, they also have one in the back."

Charlie sank down on the chair. He took his head into his hand. "I really thought that they would never look for us here," he mumbled.

"They didn't. They were here for me." Alan clasped Charlie's shoulder.

"Don is going to think I did this. Now he won't ever trust me again."

"I am sure that Don will understand that you didn't know. You were right, they probably wouldn't have looked here except they were already here."

Now everything made so much more sense. Why nobody looked for them. Why nobody had called Amita or Larry; and even why his father had taken everything so well. He knew that they were as protected as possible. He could concentrate on Don's well-being.

"But then," Charlie raised his head, "he doesn't need to run away. He can stay right here."

"Son, patience is not one of Agent Paul's strong suites. She was probably distracted and didn't need the additional fight. But I'm guessing she will be here before nightfall."

* * *

 _TBC_


	28. Meetings III

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing. I appreciate your thoughts. Thank you._

* * *

 **MEETINGS III**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 15:00 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

"You told me, you promised me that it was impossible for them to be looking for me here." Don's eyes blazed with anger.

"I said it's statistically improbable, not impossible," Charlie defended himself. But the moment the words had left his mouth, he knew that it was the wrong thing to say.

"You lied!"

"No!" Charlie looked at his father. After a lengthy debate, they had decided to tell Don that the FBI was here and that he couldn't leave the house. It was actually his father who had argued the case. Charlie hadn't wanted to say anything, fearing that it would destroy the tender trust that had blossomed.

Don took a step towards him. His hands balled to fists on his side.

"No, I didn't lie." Charlie took a step back. "I had no idea that dad would be home. I didn't know that they'd sent him a protection detail."

His brother narrowed his eyes. "This wasn't part of your equation?"

Charlie swallowed. "I made the calculation under less than ideal circumstance, and yes, I forgot to add the Dad variable."

"Now Dad is a variable?"

"No, yes." Charlie threw his hands in the air. "I don't know. Okay? Two days ago, my biggest problem was to get David to believe that I saw you and to find you. Now my biggest problem is to earn your trust, to keep you alive, and prove that Flynn Logistics was behind everything so Agent Paul stops threatening you." He took a deep breath. "I don't know!"

Don breathed hard. He stared at him with fire in his eyes. "I can keep myself alive. I don't need you." Suddenly he deflated and turned away.

"Don... It's the best thing that could have happened to find you ... I just don't want to lose you again..." Charlie stood back a little lost. Math wasn't going to fix brothers. Numbers, so clear in his mind, didn't mean anything for his brother. If he didn't trust him, then he couldn't trust the numbers. And the numbers painted so clear a picture. Everything was in favor of a complete healing except Don's stubbornness. And Flynn.

"Tell me about Flynn Logistics."

"What?"

Don whirled around. "Tell me about Flynn Logistics, that's behind everything like you just said."

Charlie bit his lip. David had warned him about talking to Don. If he couldn't remember things on his own and repeated on the stand only what he'd been told, they might win the battle but lose the war.

On the other hand, Don would never regain his memories if he fought them every step of the way. Charlie would never get his brother back. Maybe it would provide the necessary trust and background information for Don to remember on his own.

"Joe Flynn, the owner of Flynn Logistics, is the suspected driving force behind this." Charlie started. As Don relaxed his stance, he continued. "We don't know for sure, but we, the FBI, are pretty certain. He was the main connection between Robin and Agent Ward."

"Tell me," Don demanded. As a show of good faith, he even sat down. Or maybe the fight had left him drained.

"I can't tell you everything because there are things you need to remember on your own, and there are things I don't know," Charlie began. He knew that David would kill him, Robin would first kill and then hug him, but he knew that he wasn't an agent or a lawyer. He was the math guy and a brother. Both of these instincts told him to keep the line of communication open to Don. He ignored the little voice reminding him that this Don was not the same Don he remembered.

"Joe Flynn is suspected of using his firm to transport anything, no questions asked. If you pay the right amount, he delivers it for you, mostly drugs. He doesn't work for a drug cartel or gang, he is something like a freelancer in the business. The DEA never managed to get anything on him, neither did the ATF or LAPD.

"But then Agent Ward and Agent Miller found drugs in Matthew Flynn's dorm room and brought it to Robin in the hope that they would be able to turn the son against the father with enough pressure."

Don nodded. It was clearly visible that he was hearing all of this for the first time.

"But then Matthew Flynn died in jail." Charlie swallowed hard as he remembered the pictures of the body. It was almost unrecognizable as a human being.

"His father swore revenge. A few days later, Agent Ward and Robin were attacked. We figured that Agent Miller was spared because nobody could find him when he went to a bar after a fight with his wife.

"But Flynn didn't leave any evidence that he hired the men that did the job for him."

Don nodded again. "How do I fit in?"

Charlie smiled a real smile. "Robin is your girlfriend, and you didn't let her get taken. You fought, shot two of your attackers, and then were abducted. Nobody could find you."

"Why would you or dad be at risk?" He stumbled over the word 'dad'.

"As long as you were missing, Joe Flynn knew that you didn't pose a risk to expose him. But now … you could identify him, or maybe your attackers, Kirkan and Twist, will make a deal with the prosecution." Charlie started to relax. He looked around for his father, but he had left the two alone to talk together without an additional source of stress for Don.

"But now that we found you, he's at risk again."

"But Robin is fine? They haven't tried try to kill her again?"

"No."

"Is Robin the woman from my ..." He blushed and left the sentence unfinished.

Charlie pressed his lips together at the embarrassment of his brother. If he could remember, he would boast, not be ashamed. But it still was good news, so he stood up and brought him a photo of Robin and Don together. It had been taken at one of the informal garden parties where nobody had been invited and yet everybody had come and brought something.

He never knew if he just missed the formal invitation or if with this family and their friends, stuff like this really happened.

Neither Don nor Robin had been aware of the photo being taken. It was a beautiful shot that showed their admiration and love for each other as they looked at each other with smiles on their faces. Alan had loved the photo so much that he had it framed.

"This is Robin. I have already shown you some photos with her."

"Yes," Don raised his eyes from the photo, "but you showed me photos of a lot of women on my arm."

"You're a lucky guy." Charlie answered.

Don snorted. "I just don't remember anything. So what does it matter if I am a lucky guy?" He held up his hand. "Don't answer that. It was just a rhetorical question."

Charlie sat down opposite from his brother.

"So this Flynn character is threatening you? You need FBI protection from him?"

"He once came here to offer Dad his condolence." Charlie bit his lip and balled his fists. He could have never imagined how deep a human being could feel anger until he had found his father pale and shaking on the stairs.

He forced his hands to relax. It wouldn't help to add to Don's misery. As he looked up, Don regarded him with knowing and wistful eyes.

Then he looked away. "Why didn't they attack Robin again if it's revenge for the death of the son?" He looked back to Charlie; this time his face was expressionless.

Charlie opened his mouth, but no words came out. He frowned. He didn't know the answer.

"Never mind," Don answered. "He had his revenge with me being gone, and now he's been robbed of his revenge and that is why he is after me."

Don stood up. "I'll be right back."

Charlie closed his mouth. He needed a paper and a pen. It was probably one of the most important parts of his Emergence Work. Don's problem solving methods were independent of the conscious knowledge of memories. If he could integrate this in his equation, then ... Charlie's eyes glazed over.

"Earth to math planet."

Charlie jerked out of his reverie. "Yes?" He looked around. "Where's Don?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," his father answered. "I stopped eavesdropping after the shouting died down and you started to talk as brothers."

"Yeah. I guess he listened." Charlie smiled. "I think at the end he even believed me that I didn't know that the FBI would be waiting here."

Alan looked around. "So where is he?"

The doorbell rang.

Both Alan and Charlie startled. They looked at each other.

With great reluctance, Alan started the short way to the door.

"It's Amita!" The words were accompanied by a simple knock.

Alan's shoulders relaxed. He sped up and opened the door with a cautious smile. "Come in."

"What happened?" Charlie asked.

"I have new data from Nikki." She held up a file as she entered the room. "But I can't find my cell phone or keys. I guess I forgot them in your garage."

Charlie took the data and started to page through it. "You know the way." He pointed to the other end of the house.

Alan shook his head and shared a smile with Amita who hurried to the garage.

"I guess I'll check the bathroom ..."

"Yeah, good idea," Charlie said absently as he scanned the data. He heard but didn't understand the laugh of his father.

So Flynn Logistics allowed the assailants of the safe house to use a warehouse. This could be another obstacle. But every good needed to be declared on manifest. If he could identify the bogus data, ...

"Charlie!"

Charlie raised his head at Amita's shout. She stood in the doorway. In her hand, she held up a house phone, shaking. Unnaturally pale, she looked at Charlie with big eyes.

"What?" Charlie tried to remember his line of thought. "Did someone call-"

"I couldn't find my cell phone. So I tried to call myself with your house phone. But there was an outgoing call, so I looked at the number. "

"Okay?" Charlie took a step towards her.

Alan arrived from upstairs. "He isn't here." His voice echoed the fear on his face.

Amita cleared her throat. "Charlie, I recognized the number." Water began to pool in her eyes.

"And?" Alan took the last step.

"Did any of you used it to call -"

"Amita, we haven't called anyone, why would we-?"

"What number?" Alan's hand clenched the guard rail.

Charlie stared, confused, at his father and his girlfriend.

Amita swallowed hard. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She thumbed the recall button to reconnect. Closing her eyes, she held out the phone.

Through the tiny speakers, a female voice said, "Thank you for calling Flynn Logistics. How may we be of service?"

He heard the hard thump of his father as he sat down on the last step.

"He called Flynn."

* * *

 _TBC_

 _I hope nobody is surprised that Don couldn't just sit back and do nothing, now that he has some information._


	29. Two-Way Street

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and dear guest(s): thank you very much for your reviews! I'm glad that it wasn't a surprise how Don acted. But he isn't the only one with a plan ..._

* * *

 **TWO-WAY STREET**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 16:35 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

"What do we do now?" Amita looked from Charlie to Alan.

"Why would he call Flynn Logistics? I told him that he was the one behind everything!" Charlie stared at the spot where he had last seen his brother. "Why?"

"Maybe-"

"That doesn't matter now." Alan wrestled himself up. "We need to find him, and then we can ask him." He walked toward the kitchen. "I'll look outside. Amita, you search upstairs, and you, Charlie, you look around here."

Alan marched off to the garage.

Charlie still held the file in his hands. It could be the break that they needed, and now he couldn't work on it because he could only think about Don. Calling Flynn was counter intuitive and stupid. Why would Don do this?

He knew in his heart Don was long gone; he had told them often enough that he should go, he probably just figured to slip away this time.

Charlie wandered through the kitchen, the living room, checked the bathroom and storage. Charlie even climbed down the stairs into the cellar.

"Nothing." Amita waited at the top of the stairs leading to the cellar.

"I know."

Still holding the file, he sat on the nearest chair. He paged through the file and let the numbers comfort him. They made sense, contrary to his brother.

"I think he has a plan," his girlfriend whispered.

He sighed at the broken escape as he concentrated on her. "What plan?"

"Don wants to protect everybody. I don't think he took it well that you all are threatened by Joe Flynn. He wants to protect you. And the best way to stop a chase is to confront the hunter."

"So he called Flynn." With a pale face, Alan entered the room and conversation. "He's using his Fugitive Recovery training in reverse."

Charlie jumped up. "But it's bad advice if you're the good guy trying to bring down a criminal."

"Hiding may not be the best solution, but it's the one that will keep him alive." Alan shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I never thought that I would call the FBI on my own son."

He started to walk to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"He hasn't been gone long. I am going to talk to Agent Andrew and tell him to go looking for him."

Charlie grabbed Alan's arm and stopped him. "Dad, you can't." He shook his head. "They will take him away. You don't know Agent Paul as well as I do. She already threatened to throw him in a cell, and now she will probably carry it out." He rushed the words out.

"I know. But I want Don to live. I can't protect him. He needs to be alive to remember, he needs to be alive to come back. As long as he's alive, he can fight this. But you can't have a conversation with a grave." Alan turned and went out of the house.

Charlie wanted to stop him again, to point out everything he had done to prevent this, all the personal effort. But he knew the safest place for Don was around a lot of agents. Time was all he needed to heal. If something bad happened, they wouldn't have the time.

Charlie startled as a hand touched his arm. Amita gave him a teary smile. "You should go with him. This family can't take more separation."

He gave her a short peck on the cheek and then hurried after his father.

But Alan was faster and met him halfway.

"Dad, I came to support you and -" Charlie stopped at the look on his father's face. "Dad?"

"They know." His voice was almost toneless.

Charlie heaved a relived sigh. "We knew that, they probably saw him-"

"No," Alan interrupted him, "They saw him leave and didn't stop him. Agent Andrew didn't stop my son from walking into danger by direct order from Agent Paul. Don sauntered down that street without anyone bothering to stop him or follow him." He gazed at his green front garden and down the street as if he could see the shadow of Don.

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Why would she do that? She -" he broke off.

Sick to his stomach, Charlie realized something was horribly wrong. "I'm calling David. This isn't right." He turned on his heels, marched back to the house and grabbed his father's phone.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 16:40 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

"Colby? Have you seen Paul?" David asked as his partner-slash-team member put his phone down. He had run down ideas he and Liz had come up with.

"What? We have another missing agent? How do we keep losing them?" He smiled a forced smile as he rubbed his tired eyes. "No, I haven't seen her. But I also haven't missed her. Do you need something?"

"No. It's just strange that she isn't around and hasn't told anyone where she would be." David grabbed a chair, rolled it over and lowered himself down into it right next to Colby. "Do you have something?"

Colby leaned forward. "You know I would inform my team leader first before I informed the agent in charge of the investigation. Then my team leader would decide what to do with any information."

David clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I know. But I am really only interested in the answer. This isn't like Charlie. Sometimes I don't understand Don even when he doesn't have a brain injury."

"Like the Buck Winter thing."

"Yes. But Charlie is pretty straightforward and easily understood. He has a goal, he makes an equation, he gets a result and reworks the formula. But nothing has prepared him to evade the FBI. So either we aren't searching well enough or something is wrong."

"I know man. But I doubt that it is the Flynn kind of wrong. Because I can definitely tell you that they are also looking for him. The word on the street is that he's paying good money for Don's location."

"Agent Granger?" One of the technicians called. "We have the video tapes." He pointed to the technician room.

"Thanks. Coming." Colby heaved himself up, gave David a smile and went back to his job.

David returned his focus to his own work. After reactivating his computer, he read reports and sent requests for a status report.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his work process. He glanced at the display for the caller ID.

"Alan?"

"No, this is Charlie," the voice at the other end of the line answered. "I had to borrow Dad's phone."

"Charlie." David breathed a sigh of relief. "Where are you? Is Don with you?"

"We went home-"

"Wait, home, as in your house?" David couldn't believe what he had heard. Actually, he could believe, but he expected that his agents would check even the most obvious place.

"Yes," Charlie hesitated. "Don called Flynn."

"What?" The relief he just had felt was replaced by an ice-cold fear. "Why?"

"I told him about everything. I thought it was safe-"

"You told him that Flynn was the man after him and then he called him? And what would be safe-" David interrupted himself. "Where is Don right now? We need to stop him!"

"That's the thing," now Charlie sounded angry, "Agent Andrew doesn't agree with you. He let him leave the house and didn't even follow him."

David raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Agent Andrew? What is he doing there?"

After a long moment of pause, Charlie replied. "Didn't you send an agent for dad to the house? You knew the whole time we were here."

"No, Agent Paul sent a -" David's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he suddenly realized what was going on.

"Charlie, when did Don leave the house and when did he call Flynn?" He scrawled down Charlie's answers.

"David, what is going on?" Alan asked. Either they were on speaker or he had taken the phone. "Why did you let him leave? Don is not himself, just hours ago he had such bad headaches that he even allowed me to bring him a cool cloth. He shouldn't be out and playing bait!"

"Alan, I assure you that whatever is going on, it isn't my plan." Somehow it was more important to tell this to Don's father than running out of the office. "I am going after him."

David didn't dare to breathe as silence reigned the other end of the line.

After what felt like an eternity, Alan answered. "Okay, I believe you. Just," his voice broke, "just bring my boy home. I can't lose him moments after I've found him. Whatever you have to do to save his life, do it. Please. Just bring him home."

David straightened his shoulders. "I will, Mr. Eppes, I will." If he swore an oath, he couldn't be more serious. The line clicked dead.

He dialed Agent Andrew to get his account. After he had finished, he put down the handhold, rubbed at his eyes and sighed a weary sigh.

But he had a job to do. He grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried to the elevators.

"Colby!" A blond head appeared above the separator. "Let's go!"

In times like these, David rejoiced in the renewed partnership he had found with Colby. Because his friend and partner didn't even pause to question him or to demand answers. He had heard the urgency in his voice, dropped everything and reached him with his jacket in his hand just as the elevator arrived on their floor.

David flipped his cell open, signaled Colby to wait and then pressed the button to the garage.

"Dispatch?" he asked as the call connected. After introducing himself, he asked for the location of Agent Paul.

"I though you didn't want to know where she is, and that you just were-"

David interrupted his friend. "She knew the whole time where Don was."

"What?" Colby stared at him with wide open eyes. "Say again."

"Do you remember she sent Agent Andrew after Alan so that the third Eppes wouldn't also disappear?"

"Not really, but Liz checked in with him."

"Right, you were sleeping. Anyway, she did, and I called Alan to warn him and to explain it to him."

"He reported nothing out of the ordinary."

"Maybe, but fact is that Charlie and Don were there. They went home."

Colby paused in his motion to put on his jacket. "I am worried about the past tense."

"As you should be." The elevator door opened and they hurried out to the nearest gray Sedan. Just as David opened the door, Liz drove past them.

"Liz!"

She stopped and wound down her window. "What's going on?"

"Follow us."

He entered the car, started the engine and backed out of the parking space. Again, he was pleased with how well his team worked. He knew that he had just taken Don's team and made it his own, or maybe was just keeping it together until Don could return. But he was sure that Don would be really proud at how easily they all followed his lead without unnecessary discussion and arguments.

"Call Liz," he ordered, but Colby had already dialed.

"What's going on?" Liz repeated her question through the tiny speakers.

"Paul knew the whole time where Don was. We are on our way to her location. Don had been at home with his father and Charlie." Colby recounted the entire conversation in three simple sentences.

"Andrew didn't report anything." It wasn't difficult to hear the disappointment and defense in her voice.

"I believe you." He didn't want to get into a team building exercise, but just minutes ago he had felt the same relief because Alan had believed him. Liz deserved the same. "Agent Paul ordered him to only report to her. He had to lie."

"It gets worse." He paused as he concentrated at the cross way. "Charlie told Don about Flynn in an attempt to earn his trust. He was thinking about the agents around the house and that they were essentially safe except without the difficult environment."

"Sounds like Charlie," Colby added with a shrug.

"Yeah, but Don called Flynn."

"What?" Colby and Liz simultaneously exclaimed. "Is he crazy?"

"I don't know," David answered honestly because he had had the same thought. "But he went out and Agent Andrew was under orders to let him leave without bothering him."

"And now you think that she's using him as bait or what?"

"I think more along the lines that Don would do anything to stop the threat so his new-found family is safe and he can return to his life." David's hands clenched the steering wheel.

"And I think," Colby turned his head sideways, "that Agent Paul would agree to any plan that would hand her Flynn."

"Do you really think that in this case Paul would give dispatch her location?" Liz asked.

David checked his rear mirror, she kept up with him.

"She would never lie to dispatch, for her own safety, for the safety of her team, and because she believes she's doing the right thing."

"So we're her backup?" Liz asked.

"No," Colby answered for him with a determined expression. "We're Don's."

"Any plan that needs to be discussed and executed behind our back can't be a plan that put Don's safety first." David added.

"Like I said: we're going to back up Don."

* * *

 _TBC_


	30. Two-Way Street II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading! I can't thank guest reviewers personally, so I put it here: thank you very much for your thoughts and kind words!  
_

* * *

 **TWO-WAY STREET II**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 17:30 - Park, Southern Parking Lot, Los Angeles**

"I see Flynn," Nikki reported. "He is waiting in a black SUV next to the entry sign."

Colby used his binoculars to scan the described area. "Can't see him from here."

David nodded. How Nikki had gotten wind about the action was anybody's guess, but they hadn't driven for more than a few minutes before she had called and stated that she was near. 'Near' turned out to be across town, but she could reach them in time with sirens. He probably would need to say something about that later.

The radio clicked again. "I can't see Paul."

"You shouldn't be able to see her," Colby commented.

David tuned both of them out. The sun stood low against the horizon. The lingering heat made him glad about air conditioning in his car. His team was parked in different spots around the entry of the park, the last location where Agent Paul had signed in.

His eyes scanned the area again.

Suddenly he saw movement in his rearview mirror. A man walked along the sidewalk with brisk steps.

He narrowed his eyes as he recognized him. "Got Don."

Colby mirrored his position and went on high alert. He took the radio and reported it to Liz and Nikki.

David waited until Don was near enough that they could take him in a sprint. With a nod to his partner, David opened the door and jumped out.

"Don!"

Startled, the man raised his head. Confusion changed to annoyance on his face. Colby could reach in him a few seconds, but they held back for the moment. David hoped to talk him down peacefully, and he hoped for some trust.

Don changed his course and left the sidewalk and entered the street.

With a sigh, David pushed off the driver side of their sedan and barred his way. "Don! I don't know exactly what you think you're doing, but I don't care. You need to come with us."

Don came to a halt. "I have a meeting." He took a step to his side, but David mirrored it and blocked his way again. Colby circled around the sedan and stopped behind Don.

Glancing over his shoulder, Don saw Colby. He tensed up.

"Seriously guys, I've even talked to your boss, Agent Paul. She agrees that I need to make this appointment."

It was a good thing that they couldn't see Flynn from their position. It meant that he and anyone watching him probably also wouldn't be able to see them. He didn't want to get in an argument with Paul just yet.

"I only have orders to protect you. I don't know what Agent Paul said or did. But you need to come with me."

"Then maybe you should talk to her because I need to go now." Don pointed to the direction of the park entrance. The direction where Flynn had parked.

"Your appointment isn't by chance with a Joe Flynn?"

"If you already know that, then you know why I need to keep it."

"Actually, because I know it, I know why you can't make this meeting." There was no way that David would allow this to happen. He made sure that his body language reflected this intention.

Don picked up on it. His face crumbled and left desperation in its wake. "You're Charlie's friend, right? Then you need to let me go through with it."

"I am also your friend. And the answer is still no." He opened the rear door of his sedan. "So let's go."

Shaking his head, Don remained firm. "I need to go." He took a deep breath. "You're here because Charlie called you, right?"

"And you are here despite knowing that Flynn wants to kill you. What did you talk about when you called him?"

"You don't understand. I can't risk this man coming after Alan and Charlie. He is after me and I should stop this, here and now."

David crossed his arms. "Your father called me and asked me to make sure you're safe. I intend to do that, so please just trust me. We will get Flynn, and Alan and Charlie will be safe."

"For that, I have to meet Flynn. It's the only way they will ever be safe. It doesn't matter whether I remember them or not, they are in danger because of me and because of their kindness towards me. They took me in, they showed me love even when I don't remember them. I couldn't imagine a more annoying little brother than Charlie. He treats me like a brother despite everything I did to get him off my back. They don't deserve to be prisoners in their own house because of something I have done."

"Actually, it is your girlfriend that Flynn is after," Colby added. "Nobody, that includes you, deserves to be hunted for doing the right thing."

Don glanced shortly to the blond agent. "I just want to protect Alan and Charlie. What's so difficult to understand?"

"That you want to do the protecting by killing yourself."

"I am not killing myself. I am just going to talk to Flynn."

"About?"

He refused an answer. "It's the only way to protect my family. I may never remember, but these men, they don't care about other people. Charlie could have died in that safe house that wasn't even safe." David heard clearly his accusatory tone. "He would have died because of me. I can't be responsible for it. But I also couldn't get Charlie to let me go. So this is the only way."

"It won't happen again. You are safe with us. So is Charlie."

"Right. How did they find out where your safe house was? What happens when you remove the protection from my father because you got me? I am going to do the only thing I can do to protect them!"

"We are not going to remove the protection from Alan or Charlie. Or Robin for that matter," David argued. That Don would mistrust their safe houses he could understand, but assuming that they would leave Charlie and Alan unprotected went a little far.

"That is not what Agent Paul said. If I can't help her to nail Joe Flynn, then she doesn't have a case, and without a case, everybody walks and nobody will protect my family. Except me, even though I don't want it, but I wouldn't even be allowed to be near Alan and Charlie, and they-"

Colby's look of fury would make Nikki proud, but David had more worrying things to think about than Agent Paul. He interrupted his friend. "Don, I don't care what Paul said because it's simply not true!"

"What, that I'll remember and get you Flynn?"

"No! We would never leave Alan and Charlie unprotected. Whether we arrest Joe Flynn or not. We would never..." David trailed off. Of all the things Don could have chosen to believe, he chose this. Or maybe Agent Paul was just really good at her job and managed to manipulate Don to do exactly what she wanted him to do. Fear was an important motivator.

David felt his cool draining away.

"I have to go," Don repeated.

"And what are you going to do?" Colby asked from behind Don. "Because getting yourself killed may help Paul's case, but it won't help your family."

Don glanced away. He bit his lip and lowered his head. Rubbing at his eyes, he gave an image of a man to feel sorry for. "I don't know. But I have to stop Flynn."

"Then trust us. We will protect you and your family. Nobody is going to drop the case or let Flynn walk away. He is responsible for the death of Special Agent Martin Ward. At the very least, the DEA will never stop looking." David personally wasn't sure about the DEA. After uncovering that his ID had been used to change the fingerprints, the talks had strayed away from simple victim to potential accomplice. But David knew that he and Colby and Liz and Nikki would never let it go or leave their friends unprotected.

As Don looked up again, he had pressed his lips together. David knew the moment he had come to a decision. "I can't take the risk. I have to go."

Don took a step toward the corner. Toward a waiting Flynn.

David stood his ground and let Don enter his personal space. He wasn't buckling. "You need to think this through, Don. Charlie and Alan would do whatever is necessary to keep from losing you again. You have no idea what the last six months have been like for them."

"Which is exactly why I need to do this." He lowered his voice. "Please. I'm begging you to let me do this for them. You know what these men are capable of. They didn't care about the lives of your agents. If I hadn't distracted them, they would have shot them without thinking. One of the men already had his gun aimed. What do you think will happen if my father or Charlie is around? I can't risk this."

Colby had paled as he listened to how near he had been to be cut in half by an AK-47.

"There is another option: you trust us and we will get Flynn, and after we've arrested him, you will be free again."

Don shook his head more vehemently. "You can't even protect your own safe house, how will you ever arrest and destroy him?"

The mistrust hurt as much as it had the first time he met Don. After Liz' and Nikki's report, he knew that he had good reason for his mistrust. If he couldn't get Don to agree, he would add to the list of reasons to mistrust LEOs. But he had made a promise to Alan.

His throat was dry as he forced out the words. "I can't let you do this. As an FBI agent, as a friend, I can't let you go and meet Joe Flynn for whatever you or Agent Paul has planned. I don't want to hurt you. So please, just come with me. In a few days, everything will look different."

"Not to me." With that, Don took another step forward, touching David with his shoulder.

David lost his balance at the touch and something inside him snapped. He didn't know who was more surprised, Don or Colby, as he used his imbalance to grab Don and whirl him around face first against the sedan.

Don reacted instantly and tried to escape David's grip, but Colby had shaken off his surprise to aid David. Using his momentum to keep Don off balance, David grabbed his handcuffs and closed them around the wrist in his hand.

With Colby assisting, he enclosed the second cuff in seconds. Don had stopped struggling, an action probably ingrained in him by the NPD.

"Family," David breathed hard from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Family is a two-way street. We have the same right and duty to protect you that you have. You don't have a special right to be the only one to protect somebody. If you can't believe me, that you will heal and that we will get Flynn, then you need to let your family believe it for you. That is what a family does."

David spoke the words intently, but Don only stared straight ahead above the roof of the car. Colby had a grip on his other arm so David loosened his own grip.

He put his hand on his shoulder. "Don-" he broke off as he saw Don clenching his jaw so hard that it was drawn into a fine line. The muscles under his hand were locked tight. He wouldn't listen to a single word he had to say.

Sending Colby a helpless look, David pushed himself away from the car and let go. He let Colby check for weapons.

Colby then pulled Don back to the rear door. "Don, I promise you, if we don't get Flynn ourselves, or if Alan or Charlie or Robin are in any danger, I will personal drive you to a meeting with Flynn and help you with whatever plan you had, okay?"

Don turned his head slightly and gave Colby a calculated glare, to which he responded with a smirk. It was a promise that Don would demand if necessary and Colby would provide without hesitation.

With that, he pushed Don into the backseat and closed the door. Giving David a rueful smile, he answered the unspoken question. "I would."

David sighed. Only Colby and Don.

Heaving a deep breath, he rubbed a hand across his eyes. He let his hand fall down and shared a look with Colby who raised his eyebrow.

On the other side of their car, his gaze found Liz, who looked at him like a mother who was about to scold her child.

David let his head sink. For days, he had fought to get Don to trust him, and in a single moment, he lost his cool and set them all back several steps. He hid his eyes behind his hand.

"For what it's worth," Colby paused. David looked up to see him throw Liz a grimace. "I think you did the right thing."

* * *

 _TBC_


	31. No Way

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank for reading and for your reviews. Sometimes, there is no clear right or wrong and everybody can only do what appears to be right. But it's time for a little silver lining ..._

* * *

 **NO WAY**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 17:45 - Parking lot, Los Angeles**

David had driven to a nearby police station with Liz following. Nikki had stayed on top of Flynn so they would be warned of any movement. He had no intention of dropping Don off. But a safe and secure place nearby was a good investment when he wanted to regroup.

He would have liked to put as much distance as possible between Flynn and his precious – albeit reluctant – cargo. But a call to Agent Paul was in order, and he couldn't put it off any longer.

Liz had switched places with Colby and now sat in the backseat with Don. David knew if somebody could reach Don, it would be her. They had left the window of the driver door slightly open to follow any conversation.

Colby leaned against the sedan and crossed his arms. His gaze was hidden behind dark sunglasses, so David couldn't really tell what he thought.

Hitting speed dial for dispatch, David braced himself for the coming call.

Behind him, he could hear Liz trying to talk to Don. After dispatch told him to wait, he concentrated on the conversation behind him.

"So, do you remember me?"

David glanced at Colby, who also appeared to be listening. The pause stretched. If Don kept silent, David was responsible for it.

"I don't think Charlie's pictures came with a story even if you're in them."

Liz laughed. It sounded like a melody. "Even then, I don't think Charlie knows the whole story. But I meant, do you remember me as one of the agents at the safe house?"

"Sure."

"See, you saved my life there. It wasn't just in the best interest of your attacker to kill us. It was also in your best interest so you could get as far as possible without anybody knowing that you're gone."

"I couldn't let them kill you for just doing your job."

"So you can understand David."

"What?"

"David couldn't risk you getting hurt or killed for doing our job."

There was something rustling and a mumbled curse.

After a moment, Liz' voice returned. "So what was the plan? And what part did Agent Paul play?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Don grumbled.

"Actually, it still matters. Agent Sinclair is calling Agent Paul now, and it would help to know what she had planned."

Dispatch came back on the line and asked if she should continue to try reaching Agent Paul. He affirmed.

"You know, Charlie told us that your thought process has remained the same despite your missing memories." Liz continued as the silence stretched.

"And?"

"And despite all the strange things you've done over the years, I could always follow your logic. I think you had a plan when you went to Flynn. Without a weapon, it couldn't be the most obvious choice. So I would really like to know your plan."

David would love to know that himself, but Don kept silent.

"Okay, turn around and show me your hands," Liz ordered.

David needed a moment to understand what she intended. He pushed himself off the car and leaned down to look inside. "Liz," he warned.

She gave him a bright smile. "Don't worry, David. I know what I am doing. We'll be fine." The handcuffs clicked audibly, and after she had freed his second wrist, she handed them back to David with the same bright smile. "Don't worry."

He took the cuffs, gave Don and Liz a warning glare and got back on his cell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Don rubbing his wrists, finally a little less tense. Maybe Liz really knew what she was doing.

"So, I ask again, what kind of plan led you to a meeting with Flynn?"

This time Liz let the silence reign until Don answered.

"As far as I've understood Charlie, Flynn wants revenge for the death of his son. But he has neither the men nor the organization to do a coordinated attack himself."

Don fell silent.

"And?" Liz prompted.

"Everything I am supposed to know about Joe Flynn and don't know … There is one man who knows everything."

"Joe Flynn." Liz said.

David closed his eyes. Somehow, they had done the wrong thing with the best intentions. Trapping Don into thinking that he had to meet Joe Flynn just to answer their questions hadn't been their plan at all.

Don suddenly spoke up again. "I kind of understand him."

"What do you understand about him?"

David was glad Liz asked this question because he was wondering the same thing. He glanced at his cell, but the line was still open and connected, though silent.

"You know Charlie, right? I am sure that once upon a time, I wished that I didn't know him; that he would not be my brother, just for a day or so. I am pretty sure that sometimes I wished that I could stand next to him and honestly say, 'No, I don't know him.' But now that I really don't remember him except as a ghost in my head who talks math, I would do almost anything to have a family and memories of them again. I would gladly take the most embarrassing, stupid stories and memories, if I just had them again."

Colby shared a sad smile with David. For the first time, Don was talking to them. Maybe something was finally going right.

"Same with you. I wish I could remember what had been. I am sure that it hurt and that I once wished to forget, but now I want to remember."

Liz kept silent for a long moment. David would have liked to see her to gauge her reaction, but he didn't dare to interrupt Don's talking.

"And you think that Flynn fares the same?"

"He once wished for revenge, but once he had it, he realized it isn't a magic button to take the pain away. The pain is here to stay." Don paused. "I am not suicidal or whatever your friend out there thinks. I just -"

"Just what?"

"I just wanted to end it."

David could understand this. He often had dreamed about confronting Joe Flynn and doing whatever was necessary to get answers, to end this limbo.

"You said yourself that the attacker at the beach house didn't care for any life, so why go and meet Flynn?" Liz asked.

"He isn't the man to do things himself. If you're a killer, you're ready to die like one, but if you're the guy who gives the orders, you want a long and happy life. The men from the safe house are dead. It was the perfect time for a meeting until he can hire new people."

"How do you know that they are dead?"

Don chuckled. "There was a text message on the phone of Charlie's girlfriend."

"Amita's phone? How do you-?"

"I found it on the sofa in the garage. I thought I should probably be able to call any of you in case I learn something useful. Kind of didn't work out right."

"Let me guess: Agent Paul."

Don snorted. "She knew about the call and that I had left the house and could track me through the phone."

"You met her?"

After a moments' hesitation, Don said, "I'd prefer to call it an ambush."

"What happened?"

"I adapted my plan until she relented."

"And the new plan?"

"Agent Paul said I make for a pretty miserable picture. Apparently even Joe Flynn would have a hard time saying nothing. I was supposed to get a confession from him. If push came to shove, she could arrest him for whatever happened to me."

"And that doesn't sound like suicide to you?"

"What? Trusting you guys to keep me safe? Wasn't that the whole plan all along?"

David shook his head. Don had them there. But he was angrier at Agent Paul and how she had been using him.

"So you were willing to risk your life to get Flynn."

He couldn't see Don, but after a shared glance with Colby, he knew they both could imagine the expression on his face. It was unfair how much he acted like the old Don without being the old Don.

"I guess we all think alike."

"Alike? I don't think that either of us or your family thinks like this. David, my friend outside, risked his career to stop you from going through with this plan. He-"

"He is willing to hurt me to save my life. So was Alan when he called him." Don raised his voice to talk over Liz. "And so was I. I was willing to hurt their feelings to save their lives." He lowered his voice again. "I don't know what else to do. I am not the Don they miss."

"You're wrong. They miss you and are willing to adapt. Don't give up. You came so far, don't give up now. Don't give up your hope."

"Hope?"

"Yes, hope like your family had and has. Hope that their son is still alive, hope that you can find your brother, hope that injuries heal, hope that even without memories the connection is enough to find a way together. Hope for a future, hope for better things."

After a pause, she continued. "Please Don, keep the faith. You survived two attempts on your life, you fought your way back to your family. Don't give up now, you have almost reached the finish line. Just hold on, allow yourself a little hope. You have a family that is far more able to endure this than you can imagine right now. You have a girlfriend half of the FBI office is scared of -"

"Agent Sinclair?"

David startled at the voice in his ear. "Yes?"

"Agent Paul asked me to inform you that she has returned to headquarters." Of course, she had. Now that it was obvious Don wasn't going to follow through with their little scheme.

It was implied that she would wait for him there. "Right. Show us returning as well. Thank you." He didn't look forward to that meeting.

David had interfered with her operation, an operation led by a senior agent, in the field without trying to talk to her beforehand. And he didn't regret it one bit.

He pushed himself away from the car, away from Liz' emotional talk. At least now he remembered why he did what he did. David needed to protect his chosen family. He needed to hold on and not give up, not on Don and not on hope.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 18:30 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

Using the short ride in the elevator car, David took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. He had yet to decide what to put in his report about Agent Paul's involvement in Don's plan and his actions preventing the meeting. This had the potential to continue on and on and never end.

As David entered the floor, he looked immediately for Paul. He found her in the break room.

"Do you want a coffee?" She asked as a way of greeting.

"What the hell? You knew the whole time where Don was and you let him run across the city without any back up. What was that about? You knew that he wanted to meet Flynn. I should report you for this."

She finished preparing her coffee. After she took a small sip, she put the cup down. "Agent Eppes had a good plan. Wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I would not agree. In fact, I actually had to cuff my friend and boss to stop this idiotic plan."

"It was a good plan," she stated.

"A good plan? If you really believed that, you would have talked to me, made a report to the ADIC and -"

"How do you know that I haven't made a report to Director Wright?"

David paused and swallowed the first words on his tongue. "I don't, but I do know that he didn't know anything about a plan when I called him to report that we found Don and were on our way back."

"Then you called him before I talked to him."

"You talked to him?" David couldn't believe his ears.

"I stand by my decision and Wright agreed. I am still the lead on this case."

David narrowed his eyes. It shouldn't have been so obvious what he had been thinking.

"If you don't believe me, you can call Director Wright," she added with a smile that promised her victory.

He knew a call would be unnecessary. The ADIC didn't want the brewing conflict in his office getting out of hand and it was good decision, designed to prevent useless paperwork while also protecting Don and David. David shook his head. "I can't believe that you would just let him walk up to Flynn and offer himself."

She snorted. "Do you even know what plan Eppes had?"

David pressed his lips together. "I know what he told us."

Nodding, she fingered her cup of coffee. "That is why your team is so loyal to you. You even go to your enemy to talk to him before you start a new war." She took a sip. "You learned that from Eppes because that was exactly his plan. He had arranged a meeting with Flynn. Do you really expect me to ignore an opportunity like this? Nobody at the office knew it, no chance for any leaks."

She looked down. "It was a good plan. Fast and heavily relying on luck, but good." She looked up and straight at David. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "I stand by my decision to go forward with it. In a meeting, person to person, Flynn would either say something incriminating or do something so I can arrest him. It didn't matter how the meeting would go, I would have had something to work with."

He leaned forward against the table. "Don could have died. Flynn may have never done anything to get his hands dirty before, but that doesn't mean that he can't do it now or hire people to do it. There are people who would snap a neck for twenty bucks," David spoke intently.

"He could have died," he repeated as Paul failed to answer.

"Then I would get Flynn for murder."

David pushed away from the table. "I can't believe you-"

"His words. Those were his words." Paul raised her voice to talk over David. "If he died in a battle with Flynn's men, we would never be able to prove Flynn's involvement. We can't even prove Kirkan and Twist's connection to Flynn. Or the connection between Holland and Hill." She paused. "His brother was right, Eppes still thinks like an agent. He can even act like one. When we talked, he knew what he was offering."

"Offering?"

"He offered us Flynn if I let him go through with his plan."

"What about the risks? Did it ever occur to you that he wasn't thinking clearly? That he was desperate?" He breathed hard, the anger pulsating through him. "Actually, you knew it, because you refused to inform us, or anybody who would tell you in three seconds flat that getting Flynn is not worth Don's life."

"And did it ever occur to you, Agent Sinclair, that he may never be your friend again? As long as you treat him like your friend, you will be disappointed, because he isn't the same man who left this office six months ago. You add one mistake to the next mistake by trying to be a friend. If you think for a moment as an agent, you would realize that this is a normal deal. A deal like we've made a hundred times."

"Deal? What did you offer him for his cooperation?" He spat the words out.

"I merely pointed out that I wouldn't need to build my case based on his witness statement. A fact he had already realized. Without this need, I would leave him well alone. But as long as I needed to keep him available, he would return to custody indefinitely."

"I-" David shook his head and fled from the break room before he did or said anything that he would regret later. He couldn't believe this woman. She acted as if Don was deliberately being obstinate. As if he hadn't survived his own execution and was now hurting as if he had taken the drugs himself.

He hid in the men's room, splashing water in his face and trying to calm down.

Nikki had reported that Flynn had returned to his office. Don was safe for the moment in one of their interview rooms.

Gripping the sink with his fingers until it hurt, he took one breath after another until he had calmed down.

Pushing himself off the sink, David turned to the door with purposeful strikes. It was time to take his own advice. He wouldn't give up.

* * *

 _TBC_


	32. No Way II

_Special thanks to **ancientmaverick** for beta reading and another fast proofreading after some last minute changes! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are still my own._

 ** _W_** _ **arning:** slight mention of suicide_

 _Agent Paul believes that the end justify the means, which rarely works, and lost for a moment the patience necessary to bring down men like Flynn. The fast solution, no matter how tempting, is not necessarily the best._

 _Thank you very much for sticking with this story, reviewing and adding it to your favs._

* * *

 **N** **O** **W** **AY** **II**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 18:40 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David entered the observation room and jerked to an abrupt halt.

Robin stood next to the mirror. She was the last person he had expected to see here.

She turned to him with teary eyes. Keeping her gaze downwards, she greeted him with a small smile. "Agent."

"Counselor," David replied. Then he closed the door behind him.

"I know I shouldn't be here, but I needed to see him. I couldn't stand to remain home."

"Who called you?"

"Alan called me. He was worried when you didn't call back but didn't want to disturb you." She shrugged. "Just in case."

David cursed softly and grabbed his cell. He had text messages from Nikki and Larry, but none from Alan. How could he forget to call?

"I'll call him."

"No need. I've done it already, and Liz before me. You kept your promise."

David pocketed his cell. He looked up to the two-way mirror, but it still showed the same scene. "How is he?"

Robin shrugged and swallowed her tears. "I don't know. Liz brought him something to eat."

David knew that he could count on his team. He had sent Colby home to rest. Nikki was with Alan and Charlie. She was supposed to offer an independent protection on her free time, but David secretly hoped that Charlie and Amita could give him a new miracle.

Robin stared wistfully at the mirror. "Somehow I think he should be able to sense me and look at me or something. But that's just wishful thinking."

David didn't know what to say. "Wishful thinking brought both of you here," he finally offered. "So maybe your wishful thinking isn't such a bad thing."

Before she could reply, the door to the interrogation room was jerked open. Don's head snapped up, tension returned with vehemence. He pressed his elbow into his left side as he straightened.

As David watched, he understood what Bradford and Ramirez had meant about rest and a stress-free environment. The interrogation room wasn't it.

Agent Paul entered the room with a file in her hand.

" _Okay, let's try this again,_ " Agent Paul said and sat down..

Don sighed. " _I don't remember anything new. I guess running for your life, being shot at, and being played hasn't been the restful sleep the doctor prescribed._ "

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. " _That may be, but you're still my only witness, and I intend to use you._ "

They remained silent for a long moment. Then Paul grabbed the file and showed Don some pictures.

 _"These pictures were taken at the crime scene_."

David clenched his fists. She had chosen the most bloody and gruesome pictures of the dead body of Agent Ward. He didn't know what kind of point she wanted to make, but he could already feel the anger return.

Don looked from one picture to the next. " _If you want to scare me, you're failing. Your pictures are not even half as bad as my dreams are. You should know, you have my notebook._ "

David glanced to Robin to see if she reacted to the comment about the notebook.

She caught his gaze and gave him a smile through clenched teeth. "I've seen it." She turned her eyes forward again. "I actually feel pretty honored that he remembers me so much; I just wish that not everybody would have seen it."

"They only saw the drawing of Kirkan and Twist. Nothing else."

She looked at him. "Thank you."

" _That may be,_ " Agent Paul said in the interrogation room, " _but after your friends stopped the better plan to get Flynn directly, I am back to this_."

" _They're not my friends._ " Don shot back in a knee-jerk reaction. It was as if he didn't know what else he should say.

Robin flinched. She hadn't seen this new Don yet. But even after David had seen and heard him, it still hurt to hear him speak like this.

" _Are you sure? Because I only risk my career for my friends. I wouldn't bother with anybody who doesn't want my help unless they were my friend. I don't think that Agent Sinclair is usually so single-minded in a case like this. I can guarantee you that they act like your friends._ "

Agent Paul leaned forward and pointed to a picture to Don's right. " _What about this? We know that you were present there. We found your blood. Does anything ring a bell?_ "

Don leaned to his right for a better look and flinched.

"Is he hurt?" Robin crossed her arms and stared at him with accusatory eyes.

David thought about it. The crime scene report lay unread on his desk. He didn't know if the blood from the harbor matched Don's, but Charlie hadn't reported an injury and he hadn't seen one. "I don't think so," he said slowly.

"He's hiding something. I'm sure of it," Robin said and turned to the door. Before she could leave the observation room, Agent Paul had seen the same hints and asked, " _Are you hurt?_ "

" _What?_ " Don raised his gaze from the pictures.

" _Do you have an injury that requires medical attention?_ "

Don pressed his lips together. " _No_."

Paul raised an eyebrow. " _Then why are you favoring your left side? I think you're trying to hide something._ " She motioned Don to raise his shirt. " _Prove to me_ _that_ _there's nothing_!"

" _What is it with you and my chest? Haven't you seen enough already?_ " Don shot back. He crossed his arms and pressed his lips together. It was a simple way to show his refusal.

With a dark smile, Paul pulled her trump card. " _You can do it yourself, or I can get some nice officers who will do it for you_."

Don remained still until Paul actually opened her cell phone. " _Okay, okay_." He pushed the chair back with such a force that the resulting scratching sound made several agents turn their heads.

Standing up, he raised his shirt. On his left side, there was an angry read line with smears of blood and pus that overflowed the small patch.

" _What's this?_ "

" _Nothing._ " He jerked his shirt back down. " _Everything is fine._ "

" _That doesn't look fine to me._ " Paul flipped open her cell phone to call for an EMT.

" _I don't need anything. It's fine,_ " Don plunked down on his chair and tried again after she had closed her phone. " _I have it under control._ "

Paul just raised her eyebrows.

For the first time, David cheered her unflappable attitude.

" _Seriously_ ," Don put his hands together as if he would pray, " _I_ _beg you, don't call anybody. I really can't pay any more bills. After all this is over for you, I won't have a job and I'll still have three big bills to pay and no way to do it. I can't afford another one. It isn't necessary. I will clean it again. Just let me do it._ "

" _You have savings and a job in a governmental agency with insurance. Your medical bills are covered. We've told you already this._ "

" _And I don't believe you._ " Don said. " _This doesn't happen. Not in reality. You, and all of your police officer buddies, can't tell me for days on end what a bad man I am, that I deserve to rot in prison for the rest of my life, and then just expect me to believe that all of this was just a great big misunderstanding._

" _Nobody was interested in me for weeks and suddenly you tell me that I am an agent? That simply doesn't happen in reality. Either I am the bad guy like Detectives Reed and Torres have told me, or I am not. But I can't be both._ "

Don grabbed his head, hiding his eyes. He added under his breath, more for himself, " _This just doesn't happen. Not after I started to believe them._ "

Agent Paul stared at him.

David had already heard the desperate tone in his voice and body language as he asked to be allowed to meet Flynn. But Robin hadn't experienced it yet. The renewed tears in her eyes were a testament to the fact.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "He will get his memories back."

She cleared her throats. "That's what scares me. He hasn't changed a bit. How will he deal with all of this after he remembers? How to face you, this office, or his family?"

David snorted. "He is a fighter and stubborn. He will come to the same conclusion again: a direct attack is the best solution. We will be fine. He hasn't done anything here that he hasn't already done as Don. He just has a better reason now."

Robin rubbed at her eyes. "You're right."

" _Where do you have the wound from?_ " Paul interrupted Don's attempt to persuade her.

" _Did you even listen to a single word I said?_ " he asked.

" _I did. And?_ "

Don sighed. " _I'm not sure. I guess it was a splinter from the chase around the harbor. It hurt the first time at Charlie's house. But after I cleaned it, the pain faded. After the run in with Agent Sinclair, the pain returned._ "

David recalled how he had pushed Don against the side of the car. He couldn't remember anything special about it, but he had been angry; and he had been forceful.

"This isn't your fault. Nothing like this should have happened. Charlie or Don should have talked to you and called you themselves."

He would have never dreamed that Robin would say something like this to him.

Hiding the emotion in his eyes, he turned back to the interrogation room. Paul had let Don keep talking.

Suddenly Paul leaned forward and interrupted Don. " _We are not your enemies. I don't care about bills and neither should you. The FBI will cover your expenses. You should work on your memories about_ _the_ _evening of 26_ _th_ _March. This is important._ " She tapped on the table to underline her next words. " _After all of this is over, you will be better off than when we first met._ "

Don stood up and stubbornly shook his head. " _I don't think so. You are clearly willing to say a lot of things just because you can._ "

David held his breath repeating his mantra: not again, not today.

Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Bradford entered the room, interrupting the brewing confrontation.

" _Director Wright sent me,_ " he explained before Agent Paul could say something. " _You don't need to stay while I talk to Agent Eppes._ "

David relaxed again. It was the first time anybody had addressed Don as Agent Eppes. Maybe they were to blame for his reluctance to believe them.

Agent Paul stood up and left Dr. Bradford the chair. Don followed her with his eyes until she settled her shoulders into one corner and crossed her arms. She wouldn't leave.

Signaling with her hand, she told Dr. Bradford to proceed.

" _Please sit down._ " Dr. Bradford pointed to Don's still vacated chair as he sat down and put a new file on the table. After a moment, Don complied.

" _You do remember me?_ "

Don nodded. " _Sure_."

" _I guess it's time to talk about the impressive task you've accomplished._ "

David raised his eyebrows. It wasn't what he expected to hear. Don also appeared confused.

" _What task?_ "

" _You survived,_ " Dr. Bradford stated. " _You survived your own execution. You survived six months without memories in a hostile environment that would break most men._ "

Don rubbed at his eyes. " _I_ _t's not like I had a choice. What else should I've done?_ "

" _There were other options, you just didn't consider them._ "

" _What other options?_ "

" _Suicide, criminal activities, taking or dealing drugs, confessing to NPD for anything and everything. There were a lot of options. You chose the hardest. You kept on living and working._ "

Don looked down while David relaxed further. They had found an ally with Dr. Bradford. Maybe he was just the man that knew what to tell Don.

Agent Paul watched Don and Dr. Bradford with narrowed eyes.

" _I've read the report from NPD and Agent Betancourt._ " Dr. Bradford continued when Don remained silent. " _Detectives Torres and Reed were unrelenting, yet you never gave them anything for a real case._ "

" _Just more trouble for me._ "

Dr. Bradford smiled. " _From what I've heard, they kind of deserved the trouble they got because you'll get out of this just fine._ " He held up his hand to stall any protests. " _The hospital bills are covered by your insurance, and the court bills are going to be covered by the FBI. It was a failure of their system that allowed the mistaken fingerprints, or you would have been identified right away._ "

" _And if they refuse?_ "

" _Then you know good lawyers, who are willing to help pro bono._ "

Don shook his head. " _I -_ "

" _Listen, just listen,_ " Dr. Bradford interrupted. " _T_ _he character trait allowing you to keep going and not giving up, it's usual called stubbornness. You took the few things you knew and held onto them with everything you had._ "

David silently agreed. That was a good description.

"I'd never have thought that I would be thankful for his stubbornness." Robin echoed his thoughts.

"Or his scar when it was the best way to identify him."

Robin nodded and gave him a small smile. "Sometimes even the bad things can be good given the right circumstances."

David nodded and turned his attention back to Dr. Bradford.

" _But now you have access to_ _new_ _information; maybe it's time to adjust your base of information to the new situation._ "

Don raised his head. " _How?_ "

Bradford pushed his file towards Don. " _T_ _his is your personal file. It's everything the FBI deemed interesting enough to keep about you._ " He paused. " _I should have given you this two days ago. It would have spared us all a lot of headaches._ "

David held his breath as he waited for Don's reaction. He hoped his curiosity was stronger than his mistrust.

As Don leaned forward, David relaxed again.

Carefully, Don took the file. He paged through his file, while routinely looking up to Dr. Bradford or Agent Paul to gauge their reaction.

Finally, Dr. Bradford halted his random paging. " _You should start at the end._ "

" _Why?_ "

" _It's the background report about you and your family. I guess that would interest you the most._ "

Nobody interrupted his reading until the EMT knocked on the glass.

* * *

 _TBC_


	33. No Way III

_Special thanks to **ancientmaverick** for beta reading and another fast proofreading after some last minute changes! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are still my my own._

 _Thank you for reading, and if you left a review with your thoughts: thank you very much._

* * *

 **NO WAY III**

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 19:50 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

The medic, a SWAT officer, was fast and efficient. His report was clear cut. After a short discussion, examination, and report, it was decided to follow his advice on care.

Dr. Bradford left with the medic as the strange atmosphere between Don and Agent Paul returned.

David took a deep breath, still watching from behind the mirror together with Robin. He didn't want, couldn't take another confrontation. Not today.

Suddenly Agent Paul collected all the pictures and put them back in the file. She hurried from the room.

"Miranda, could you?" she asked her agent pointing towards Don.

"Of course," Agent Miranda Chun agreed and went in. Working with Agent Paul had trained Agent Chun so not even Don's hostile stare could faze her.

Don stood up again. It was as if he didn't know whether to fall down or run away, trying to run the emotion off or trying to sleep them off. But he kept his personal file always in his line of sight.

"What's going on?" Robin asked and the longing returned to her body language.

He couldn't image what it meant to be so near and yet so far away from the one you love. "Paul probably has to arrange a new protection detail."

As fast as she had been gone, Agent Paul returned. She motioned to Don to also sit down.

He made a show out of his reluctance as he sat down.

This time Agent Paul remained sitting straight, none of her former arrogance and self-assurance was present in her posture. "I need to apologize."

"What?" David and Robin exclaimed at the same time.

"What?" Don echoed their sentiment a moment later in the interrogation room.

"Yes. I treated you like an agent who refused to help and, even worse, was actively hindering justice. But I failed to realize just how badly you were hurt in the line of duty. I never stopped to actually understand what happened. And for that, I want to apologize."

David was speechless. And so was Don. But Robin had crossed her arms and locked her jaw tight. There was anger behind the way she held her head high. May she have mercy on Agent Paul.

" _What are you talking about? I already told you that I don't believe_ -"

"- _what I am talking about. But that is the point, we could have done more, and I'm not talking_ _only_ _about your personal file, so you don't just have to believe me._ " She pushed the paper on the table towards Don. " _I can show you proof._ "

She indicated the file.

" _This is a document signed by Assistant Director Wright, stating that the FBI will cover all your expenses of the last six months since your abduction. It also contains the promise to correct your history with NPD and eliminate your prints as John Smith from the system._

" _All the medical bills are also covered._ "

Don stared at the paper on top of his file as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

She leaned back. " _So I apologize for reading you and the situation wrong. You are at the end of your rope and not purposely trying to hold back._ "

Don looked down. As he looked up again, he asked with a quiet voice, " _Does this mean the hospital visit is off?_ "

Paul pressed her lips together. David saw in her face that for the first time she really understood what he had seen and felt the whole time. Don wasn't himself, he was hurt.

She replied, " _You are hurt. Not just by a splinter but far more by an attempt on your life six months ago. It is my duty to ensure proper medical treatment._ "

Don shook his head. " _I don't need a hospital,_ " he repeated himself like a mantra.

Paul sighed. " _Maybe you don't need one, but I need you in a hospital because of the legal side of things. If I have the medical advice to let a surgeon clean out your wound, and I fail to follow up this request, I am responsible. So, I don't care._ "

" _What about your case?_ " Don asked. He was grasping at straws. " _You said that we need to work on my memories._ "

" _My case isn't worth your life,_ " Paul stated. Finally, she understood. " _It's not your fault._ " She paused for a moment. " _I still can try my luck with an offer to Kirkan and Twist. They may be more inclined to talk if they think you remembered them. I have everything I need: your drawings are very detailed_."

" _What if they are just my nightmare?_ "

" _They just need to impress two lowlifes. I know just how impressive your drawings are. So no, this will not get you out of a trip to the hospital._ "

She turned on her heels and marched straight from the room.

With a short knock, she entered the observation room. "Agent Sinclair? Do you want to try your luck with honey instead of vinegar? He may be more willing to go with you."

David doubted that it would be easier, but like Colby, he was willing to try it. Maybe he would be able to convince him that he was his friend.

Robin opened her mouth and took a step towards the door as she suddenly stopped. "I probably shouldn't talk to him."

Opening his mouth to agree, David couldn't think of any good words right now.

Paul beat him to it. "No, you shouldn't." She glanced at Robin from head to toe. "You have seen his drawings. He doesn't remember you clearly right now, but he remembers enough to remember the fear of losing you."

Robin nodded despite the tears in her eyes. She stretched her hands out to David. "I am very sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said the things I said. I know that it was impossible to search for Don more than you did."

David looked at the hand and then her sincere expression. He took it. "You only said what I was thinking. Don would have been able to find me. He found Megan, and he would have found me."

"No, he would have lost himself and wouldn't have been around to be a friend now. Some friends you need immediately, and others you need during the long haul."

David nodded.

"Not to interrupt an emotional reunion or whatever, but we still have a man in protective custody who doesn't want to be and who now needs to go to a hospital."

Robin narrowed her eyes and swirled around to face Paul. "I hope you understand that your emotional state has a deleterious effect on those around you. You spoke to Don as though he was a recalcitrant child, and he repaid you by being even more rebellious. Being open about things would have saved us a great deal of trouble."

David's eyebrows would have reached his hair line if he still had hair. It was great to have an assistant US attorney on his side. He had forgotten just how great.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 20:50 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

"Alan, do you want a tea? Or can I get you anything else?" Amita asked, her laptop running on the table in front of her.

His father jerked out of his trance and looked up. "No, thank you." He returned to staring at the door.

Charlie followed his gaze, forgetting his work. "I can't believe we let him walk through that door. We had him. Here at home. And now he is gone again."

Alan chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Charlie put down his laptop.

Still smiling even as his voice vibrated with tears, Alan explained. "Since Don could walk, I've been wondering how he managed to be in one place one minute and then gone the next. You just have to turn around, and he is gone, like a ghost. It's an art only your brother knows."

"Maybe I should-"

"Charlie," Alan said and raised to his feet, "we can't do anything at the FBI office except make everything more complicated."

"But Don shouldn't be alone!"

"David is with him," Amita said. "He'll do what he can."

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "This is all on Agent Paul. If she hadn't -"

"Charlie," Alan interrupted him again, "we need to wait until everybody has calmed down again. Agent Paul isn't going to react well to any of us, and I don't want either you or Don to have to pay the price."

Sitting back down, Charlie sighed. "I need to work on this so she'll leave Don alone, but -" He shrugged helplessly.

"We will find the routing." Amita looked up from her own laptop. "We know who has been paid when. We just need to isolate the transaction."

"I don't think it's money. Our filter should have already given a workable output. If it's drugs, we won't have any way to connect Flynn to his men because we can't even find out when and where he smuggles drugs."

"It doesn't matter. At one point, the value has to be money. You can't buy a new truck with drugs if you are constantly watched by the DEA."

"Flynn had a lot of unexpected and one-time expenses just for the court and lawyers and," Charlie swallowed, "the funeral."

"But not this time, this time it should be visible," Amita insisted.

Charlie nodded. Flynn's men, Hall and Holland, may have worked without money out of fear of past failures, but the guns and the van had to be new. Nikki had given them everything the FBI had on them, but it wasn't enough.

"What are we missing?" Amita and Charlie looked at each other, thinking.

"I am going to clean up the kitchen," Alan stood up, interrupting the silence. "Since Liz already called and promised that Don is fine, I guess I am back to waiting." His stance was weary and his gaze looked longingly to the door.

"Dad," Charlie started, but didn't know what to say.

Suddenly Amita snapped her fingers. "We are missing the DEA!"

"What?"

"The DEA. How did they know where the van was? How did they find out about the raid? The information couldn't have been provided by the FBI; they didn't have the time. Nikki didn't even know about it until after the raid."

"Robin could probably find out through her office."

Alan raised his eyebrows. "Robin is at home recuperating, and you are not going to interrupt her. Not this evening."

"But dad-"

"Alan is right," Amita sided with his father. "We can't do anything at the moment. Maybe we just need a little sleep and rest. You haven't really slept in over twenty-four hours. You ran for your life and -" her voice gave away.

Charlie hurried to her and took her into his arms. "Shhh, we're fine." Suddenly he never wanted to let her go again.

She nodded into his shoulder. "I know. I know. It's just... first Thomas Pliers in the parking lot and then Don and the safe house ..." She swallowed hard. "I just want to feel safe again."

"Shh, Thomas Pliers will be charged. CalSci didn't even need my decision. He isn't going to be a threat anymore. And Don-"

"And Don is alive. We just need to bring him home," Alan added.

Then he turned to trudge to the kitchen door, the burden dragging his shoulders down and making his steps weary.

"Dad?" Charlie called out. "The kitchen is going to be there tomorrow. But right now, we all need sleep. You are right, Don is safe at the moment, and we will need our strength tomorrow."

His father paused, then he nodded.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the wise Charlie."

Smiling, just a little, Charlie hugged his girlfriend tightly.

For the first time in months, Charlie slept in the arms of Amita.

He didn't dream.

* * *

 **Fri, Sept 25 - 20:55 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

With a purpose in mind, David strode into the interrogation room. "Hi."

Don looked up with tired eyes and dark circles beneath his eyes. "Hi." He sounded less hostile than the last few times.

David paused. He didn't know the right thing to say. None of the books and tutorials and rules he had learned helped him now. They just never quite covered this topic.

"I am going to bring you to a hospital and be part of your protection until something else can be organized." He actually hadn't thought about it yet and hoped that Agent Paul was already working on it.

"So you are going to try your luck with a safe house? No jail and their infirmary?"

David swallowed hard. It could be common knowledge about prison infirmaries, or Don could have a new reason to know it. He didn't even want to imagine the possible reason.

"No," David answered truthfully. He refrained from adding new assurances about how safe their safe house would be. "The easiest thing would be to outsource your protection. The US Marshall Service is dedicated for this kind of work, and they can take you out of LA and far away from every network Flynn has."

Don didn't look reassured by this. "What about my family? My dad and Charlie? And Robin?"

David forced a smile on his face. "We or the US Marshall Service can protect them, too."

He swallowed hard. "What about talking to them or seeing them?" Don looked up to David with such an expression that David wished he had an eraser in his mind. He looked like a cross between fearful and hopeful, as if David could change protocol and logic and made his contact easy, safe, and workable.

David shook his head. "It's probably going to take some time until you can see them again. If we figure out how they found the safe house, maybe a video chat or call would be okay, but that could take days."

Don looked down on his hands. Hands that always had been strong and forceful. But now they seemed more powerful and less elegant. He had grabbed everything he had and held on for dear life.

"Come on," David indicated to the door. "We need to get you to the hospital. Are you coming willingly, or do I need handcuffs?"

"You're asking?" He raised his head, his eyes challenging.

David held his hard stare, then he pulled the chair out and sat down. "Sure. I really don't want to use them. They're not necessary with your cooperation. But you haven't made it easy for anybody the last few days."

Don looked away first. "You don't know what's in my head."

"I can't image what your life has been like the last few months, but it's like Bradford said: maybe it's time to adapt your variables."

"If I had known what I know now…" Don stared at his file and the memo from Director Wright. "Is this true?"

"Yes," David answered without hesitation. "Yes, it's true. A lot of the things written down in your file, I can tell you personally. We've known each other for almost five years. I know a lot and I know people from your past. Tell me your memories, and I can provide you the context."

Don pressed his lips together. The hostility and tension lessened even more. "Maybe," he offered at last. "But first I need a razor."

"What?"

Don smirked and pointed to his photo on the top of his file. "I look better without a beard."

David laughed out loud. "If you say so," he said, standing up. "Don, - ... Can I call you Don, or do you prefer something else like Mr. Smith?" David belatedly realized that he had never asked and just assumed that Don would be comfortable with Don. He had made a lot of assumptions lately.

"Does any option get me out of the trip to the hospital?" He also started to stand.

"No."

"Then Don is fine."

David allowed himself a small smile. This was a victory. Small, but it was a victory nonetheless.

"I am keeping the file," Don announced and put it in front of his body like a shield.

"No problem," David agreed as he pointed the way to the elevator and the LAPD officers organized by Agent Paul.

In the privacy of his thoughts, David cheered the introduction of the personal file. Now they just had to let it take them all the way home.

* * *

 _TBC_


	34. Connected Through Family

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading, and thank you very much, mega07ghost and other guest, for leaving a review with your thoughts._

 _It's time for the revelation of the leak and for the last twist in this tale. I'm curious if somebody had the right hunch._

* * *

 **CONNECTED THROUGH FAMILY**

* * *

 **Sat, Sept 26 - 10:45- FBI Office, Los Angeles**

After a restful sleep, neither his father nor Amita had been able to keep Charlie from going to the FBI office.

He needed answers and more data.

When Oliver McGuire, Robin's assistant, had told him that Robin would be there, it was a done deal.

Charlie was a little surprised that he could enter the office without hassle. Nobody had withdrawn his security clearance, and nobody had entered him on any special lists.

He wasn't about to question it.

Arriving on Don's floor, he located Robin quickly.

"Robin?" He knocked against the glass of the conference room, not wanting to startle her. They'd had enough bad surprises to last a life.

"Charlie?" A frown settled over her tired features. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to drive you home. Your assistant told me where to find you."

She nodded. "I was hoping there'd be something to do here. But…"

"I know. Amita and I, we also can't find …" It hurt to admit that now, when his math was really needed, he couldn't help. "Hey, do you know how the DEA knew where to -"

Robin chuckled. "It's a dead end. They were informed by the office of the judge who signed the warrant."

His shoulders sagged. He had had great hopes for the information flow to the DEA.

"We have nothing. We have nothing!" Robin spat out the words bitterly. "Flynn is going to get away with it, and Don still has to pay the price."

Charlie shook his head. "No, I am not giving up. Despite everything, everyone telling us he was dead, he survived. We kept searching. He is going to get his memory back, and we will find the necessary evidence to substantiate it."

She pressed her lips together as she looked across the room longingly at Don's old desk. "I know it's unreasonable, but being here, it's like being near him." She wiped at her teary eyes. "How are you dealing with this?"

"I'm trying to be patient. Clearly, it's not working so well."

Robin let the silence descend on the conference room.

"They are going to take him away," she said quietly, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

"Who?"

Robin sniffled. "Agent Paul is already arranging witness protection for Don."

"But that's good, right? If she's not throwing him in jail..." Charlie trailed off. Something wasn't right.

"Yes and no. She came around, you know," Robin said. "She now understands that this isn't Don's fault, but …"

"But what?"

"Witness protection means that he will live under a new name in a new city … without us. Without a way to contact us. It's like losing him all over again."

"But … but … I just need more time … I … " Charlie stumbled over his words.

"Agent Paul is on our side, and she is still taking him away." Robin pinched the bridge of her nose. Not even the pale rose blouse could hide her sickly appearance.

Charlie was at a loss. He hadn't expected this at all. If they couldn't prove and remove the threat from Joe Flynn, they'd lose Don. Not to Flynn or any material witness status, but to witness protection. He couldn't believe it.

He needed a solution, not another problem. Agent Paul may have changed her tune, but the effects remained the same. If Charlie failed to produce a way to prove Joe Flynn was behind everything, they would lose Don to a system not even their father could fight.

"Ms. Brooks?" Agent Richard Miller poked his head through the half-open door. "I didn't know you were here. Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk to you. It's important."

Robin swallowed hard. "I told my assistant not to send anyone here."

Agent Miller nodded. "I can understand this. I haven't called him, so I didn't know you were here."

Charlie narrowed his eyes. He knew everything about Agent Miller. His unlikely choice to drink in a bar downtown had saved his life. He knew his routines and how he operated. But he couldn't think of a good reason why he had to talk to Robin.

"She is on medical leave and here as a private citizen," Charlie said.

"Oh, I didn't know." His shoulders slumped. "Could I still talk to you? Please?"

Robin gave Charlie a strange look, then squared her shoulders and climbed to her feet. "I can call my assistant and make an appointment and -"

"You shouldn't talk to your assistant."

Robin faced the DEA agent. "And why shouldn't I talk to him?"

Miller swallowed hard. "Because he's been feeding information to Joe Flynn."

Charlie was electrified. This could be their break. If the leak was McGuire... He stopped. If the leak was McGuire, then he himself had given Don away to Flynn.

"How do you know that? Do we have a new lead?" Robin asked, interrupting Charlie's dark thoughts.

He gave her a weary stare. His pale complexion could barely hide the sweat on his forehead or how his fingers shook. "Yes. Yes, we do. We should get Agent Paul."

Charlie ducked out of the room and waved Liz over.

"What is going on?" Liz asked as she came over. "Agent Miller?"

Miller refocused on Robin Brooks. "I came to apologize and to tell you how terribly sorry I am," Miller looked at her. "I know that I will never be able to repair the damage I've done. But I need to start to make it right."

Liz frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Oliver McGuire wasn't the only one feeding information to Flynn."

Robin gasped. She lost her last remaining color, and Charlie rushed to her side, but she brushed him off. "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath. Then a great calm came over him. "I have been telling Joe Flynn about everything that's happened since the 26th of March. I'm the leak."

* * *

 **Sat, Sept 26 - 10:55 - Hospital, Los Angeles**

David leaned back in the recliner chair and closed his eyes. Last night, a nurse had been kind enough to bring him this chair after she had realized that he was not only part of the protection but also a friend.

Despite the sleep he had gotten, he still felt exhausted. He couldn't even image how Don had to feel, though considering the man was still sleeping, he could guess. He had suspected something in the IV, but Dr. Ramirez had assured him that he would never drug a patient against his will or medical needs.

"His body has been screaming for sleep. The local anesthetic might have made it easier, but his body is doing the rest," he had explained. "Natural sleep is the best thing for him."

David stared at his friend. The unflattering hospital gown, white sheets, machines - everything together made Don look small and fragile. Somewhere, beneath everything, he had let go of his commanding presence.

Of course, the look, the mannerisms, and the same insane plans, they had remained. David shook his head and smiled ruefully as he thought about the last few days.

His phone vibrated. He had set it to vibrate only in accordance to an agreement with Dr. Ramirez.

With a frown, he recognized Colby's number. After a short glance to Don, David left the room, nodded to the uniform in front of it and went out in the waiting room to take the call.

"Colby?"

With no greeting, Colby rushed the words out. "Get Don ready, the Marshals will be with you in a few minutes. They are going to take Don."

"What?" David heard the panic in his friends' voice and felt his own adrenaline flowing. "What is going on? I don't think that the hospital-"

"The Marshals will bring an EMT. Get Dr. Ramirez to prepare whatever's necessary, or they're leaving without it."

"Colby, tell me what is going on!"

For a moment, the other end of the line was silent. Then, breathlessly, "Flynn got to Miller."

"Miller is dead?"

"No," Colby said with anger in his voice. "Miller works for Flynn; he has been feeding him information for months! Nobody knows what exactly, but we need to get Don as far away as possible from any-"

David stopped listing and flipped his phone shut. He sprinted back to the station. The uniform sat in front of Don's room, but he wasn't reassured. He hurried to the glass and looked inside. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Do not let anyone in here for any reason," he ordered the uniformed officer. "The US Marshals will be here any moment, and I have to talk to them."

He turned and hurried back to the nurse's station to have them call Dr. Ramirez. As he waited for him to arrive, David couldn't stop the carousel of thoughts on his mind. He himself had been talking to Miller. Was it something he had said? Would he even be allowed near Don again? With a strict phone list, he would be suspicious often the partner of Miller.

David rubbed at his forehead. How had they missed this?

"What is going on?" Dr. Ramirez boomed.

He turned around to face the giant of a man. How he could touch a hurt man without crushing him was beyond David's understanding. "We need to relocate Agent Eppes right now. Does he need the IV, and can we wake him?" He rushed the question out.

"Agent Eppes? He needs rest and-"

"I don't care. We need to move him as quickly as possible. The US Marshal service will take over care. They are going to be here in a few minutes, and he needs to be ready."

Dr. Ramirez narrowed his eyes. David got a taste of the power behind his stance. The same power had already thrown Agent Paul out. But this time it was about Don's life, and David could be just as stubborn.

Apparently recognizing this, Dr. Ramirez sighed. "He needs the IV antibiotics. Then the usual wound care-"

"There will be a Marshal with EMT training with them. Can you get him what he needs?"

Dr. Ramirez narrowed his eyes at his abrupt tone. But before he could say something, loud voices drew his attention.

David turned and hurried back to where the officer was doing exactly as he'd been told, keeping the Marshals from entering Don's room.

David joined the fray. "Stop!"

After exchanging greetings and badges, he explained the need for him to explain to Don the new situation. With the backing of Dr. Ramirez, he entered the room while the Marshals were updated on the medical needs.

A nurse accompanied him to help him get ready for a move.

"What's going on?" Don asked, eyes bleary. Despite the obvious tiredness, he was alert and tense.

"We found the leak, and it is worse than anticipated. We need you out of our network. The US Marshal service will take over your protection. Please," he made a begging motion, "please cooperate. They are good at their jobs, and they will protect you."

"Alan and Charlie? Robin?" He still stumbled over the names of his family members.

"We won't leave them unprotected," David promised.

"No, I meant, I know that, but what about talking to them? Going home?"

The nurse brought a clean set of scrubs. She left the IV in and disconnected the line.

David forced a smile on his face. "I don't know, but with this new information, we have a real chance to finish this once and for all."

Don nodded. He huddled into a jacket as the Marshals entered the room. Then he grabbed his file and pressed it again against his chest.

The Marshals had obviously been briefed, for which David was extremely thankful, because they they treated Don as an ill witness and not a reluctant agent.

David couldn't stop the emotion on his face as Don turned around near the elevators and gave him a slight wave.

Somehow, he had made a connection.

He took a moment for himself after the Marshals disappeared with Don. Thanking the uniformed officer, he signed the necessary documents with Dr. Ramirez and cleaned up the room.

As he walked out in the hot sun, he leaned against the nearest wall and let all the anger, fear, and hope he'd been suppressing wash over him. He needed sleep, he needed assurance that it wasn't him that had almost got Don killed, he needed time. He didn't know what he needed anymore.

He slid down until he almost sat on the ground. Hiding his eyes behind his hand he tried to plan, tried to understand what had happened.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him. David looked up into the face of his friend.

"Come on. The ADIC wants to see you." Colby said. "Paul and Meeks are going to start the interrogation with Miller soon. I'll drive you to the office." He paused. "You can tell me about you and Miller on the way."

David nodded. But he only managed to get to the car when sleep took over. There would be another time to talk about it. They had time. At least he hoped so.

* * *

 _TBC_

 _One last time: stay safe and have a good weekend. I hope to see you on Monday again._


	35. Connected Through Family II

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading and following this story. And dear Other guest: thank you for your kind words and well-thought-out review._

 _ **W**_ _ **arning**_ _: mentions of suicidal thoughts and reference to religious themes_

* * *

 **CONNECTED THROUGH FAMILY II**

* * *

 **Sat, Sept 26 - 12:00 - FBI Office, Los Angeles**

David watched through the glass of the observation room. It seemed to be his main contribution to this case, forced to remain at the sidelines.

An old man with balding hair and pale skin sat sunken but somehow proud in the interrogation room. He had his lawyer with him.

DA Howard Meeks sat opposite at the table with his business suit and straight back. Agent Paul stalked through the room as if hunting a lion.

" _You have already stated that you've been providing Joe Flynn with information regarding his case. Is this correct?_ "

" _Yes, it is._ "

" _Why? Why would you do that? You lost your partner to this man!_ " Agent Paul's words echoed what everyone in the observation room had been thinking. Narrowing her eyes, she towered menacingly over the sitting man. Her whole body reflected danger. David didn't need to look to Colby or Nikki next to him to see the tension repeated in them. They would gladly do the same as Agent Paul.

" _Fear._ "

" _Fear? Fear of what?_ "

" _I feared for my life, and then I feared everyone's reactions. I was afraid of this exact conversation, the disappointment and anger._ " Miller interlaced his fingers and pressed them together.

Howard Meeks took a deep breath. " _What was the payment you received for your information?_ "

Miller shook his head. " _My life. That was the deal. My life for my cooperation._ "

" _You have had round-the-clock protection._ " Agent Paul wouldn't let an argument like that stand. " _You were never in any danger_."

" _Really? Just how then did Agent Eppes ended up running for his life after the safe house was compromised?_ "

Agent Paul leaned back as if she had been slapped.

DA Meeks asked his own question before the interrogation turned even more personal. " _How long have you been feeding information to Joe Flynn._ "

" _Since March 26,_ " Miller answered.

The day Don had been abducted. The day Martin Ward, Richard Miller's partner, had been murdered.

A moment of silence captured the interrogation room. DA Meeks appeared to be thinking while Agent Paul didn't know how to express her anger with words. In truth, her body language was already enough.

" _Then tell me what happened the night of the 26th of March._ "

" _It started before that, when we searched Matthew Flynn's dorm room. After we found the drugs, we arrested Matthew Flynn and sent the report to Brooks. But Matthew's roommate showed up, told us the drugs belonged to him. Martin didn't want to change the report, said that we could get Matthew to turn against his father. I followed his lead._ "

DA Meeks and Agent Paul shared a look. This part was new.

" _And then Matthew was killed in jail,_ " Paul finished as Miller kept silent.

" _Yes. We knew that Joe Flynn would want revenge, but none of us could have foreseen that much rage._ "

" _What happened?_ "

" _Flynn's men grabbed me two streets down from my house after the argument with my wife. They drove me to the old empty warehouse_ -"

" _You were there?_ " Paul hit the table with her hands so violently that everybody jumped. It had to hurt, but David only saw anger on her face.

Miller flinched, but continued on. " _Yes, and after a while another van appeared. They opened the door and -_ " He paused, " _I will never forget it. They threw Martin out like he was garbage. His arms and legs flailed like a rag doll. I knew that he was dead, but I still scrambled towards him to catch him. To protect his head, you know_." He closed his eyes.

As David tried to imagine the situation, he felt Colby's gaze on his back. This was the nightmare of every agent.

" _I didn't know why they hadn't killed me yet, but I knew that I was a dead man. I had never been more afraid in my whole life. I didn't want to die._ "

David watched the interrogation, but it was like he could see the warehouse, feel Miller's desperation. It was a failure to correct a report; it shouldn't come with a death sentence.

" _After a while, another van drove through the door. Flynn himself appeared and started to argue with the men who brought him. Flynn had apparently been in one of the back rooms._ "

" _Who brought who?_ "

" _Two men brought Don Eppes. I didn't recognize him at first, but then ... he seemed drugged and totally out of it. He knelt on the ground but favored his left side and ... he just didn't seem with it_."

Agent Miller's voice had become even more soft. " _Then Joe Flynn came to me. He told me that I would have to die because I had seen too much. He'd already killed one federal agent, another didn't matter._ "

Agent Paul leaned against the glass and crossed her arms. David didn't need to read her body language because he felt the same: the odd mix of anger at Agent Miller and compassion for him.

" _I was willing to beg, and I did. I always imagined that my death would be heroic, but then and there I begged on my knees for my life._ "

David looked away as he saw a little tear in Agent Miller's eye.

Miller took a deep breath. " _He left, talked to the men with Agent Eppes and returned. He asked me if I really would do anything to save my life. I said yes. I thought that he wanted me to kill someone, and I didn't know if I could follow_ _through._

" _But he didn't want anything like that. He just wanted me to change Agent Eppes' fingerprints_."

It made sense. The situation, the time frame, the reasons for changing the fingerprints. It all made horrible sense.

" _And in that moment, I started a long journey of fear. I was afraid that I would be discovered for falsifying the report. I was afraid for my life, for my family, for everything. I used Martin's credentials and changed the fingerprints. I wanted to look good in case Flynn killed me._

" _But he didn't kill me, he offered me a deal: my life for my cooperation_."

Meeks cleared his throat. " _What else did he ask of you?_ "

" _It was an easy deal. I would live as long as no agent ever got near is operation. If I didn't warn him about raids, he would make sure that I went down with him._ " Miller paused. " _In that moment, on the floor of that warehouse with dirt on my knees, I agreed._ " He looked up to Meeks and turned his head to look at Agent Paul. " _I would have agreed to anything to save my life._ "

David knew that no one could anticipate how they would react in a situation like that. Still…

" _But fear was my new adviser. I feared my co-workers, my wife, my shadow. I asked them to drop me off next to the bar to have a plausible lie, and from then it only got worse._

" _I lied, I called Flynn to give him warnings about raids, I kept him up to date about your investigation, about the investigation of Martin's death. I gave him everything he asked for. Out of fear; always out of fear._ "

" _Can you give us a list of what you have told Flynn?_ "

Miller shook his head. " _I can tell you what I remember, but I tried to forget..._ " He shrugged. " _I always told myself that I was just saving my life and that I have a right to save my own life._ "

" _So why are you here then? What is your plan by coming forward now? I can tell you that we never suspected you. No money transfer, no sudden riches, no motive, genuine grief at the loss of your partner._ " Paul listed all the things that David too had believed.

Miller opened his mouth, but no words came out.

" _What changed?_ " DA Meeks tried again with more compassion. " _Why are you telling us all of this?_ "

" _After the raid at the warehouse, the deaths of Stu Hall and Daniel Holland, there was a new weight on my conscience. I had always told myself that I hadn't hurt anybody, that I was still one of the good guys. But now my actions lead to the deaths of two men._ "

" _Bad men,_ " Paul threw in.

" _I know,_ " Miller looked up to her, " _but still people. I knew that I needed to end my cooperation with Flynn. There was no way around it. But I didn't know how, so I chose the coward's way out._ "

Meeks understood what he wanted to say. " _You wanted to commit suicide?_ "

" _Yes. I took my gun, wrote a short note, not enough for a confession, mind_ _you_ _, just some random note about Martin's death, and I drove to an abandoned parking lot_."

David couldn't hear the term parking lot anymore. Everything always happened in a parking lot. What happened to the houses, parks, and streets?

" _I was trying to work up the courage to take the shot when someone knocked on my window._ "

David glanced to his team. They all were glad that the startling hadn't led to a reflex shot, or they would have never had hope for a new way to get Flynn.

" _And?_ " Meeks prompted.

" _After the initial shock, I rolled down the window and tried to defend myself. But the man didn't care. You know what he said? 'After you're dead, you won't need the car anymore. Can't you just shoot yourself out here and donate the car to me? It's a nice ride.'_ " Miller shook his head laughing.

" _What's there to laugh at?_ " Paul spat.

Still smiling, Miller explained, " _It was so absurd. There I was, sitting in my car, trying to commit suicide because I feared Flynn so much. I helped him in order to save my life, and now I wanted to take it myself. I couldn't even let Flynn do the work._ "

" _And that's the reason you decided to come forward._ "

" _No,_ " Miller shook his head. " _I still couldn't. I would rather have died than face my fears and you. So I looked around, trying to find another solution._ "

He paused and relaxed.

"Did you find it?"

With a smile, he nodded. " _I found a greater power than my fear. I found God, or rather he found me._ "

Paul snorted. " _Yeah, yeah. You found Jesus, and now you're a new man. Let's forget everything else you've done. Now everything is fine._ "

" _No, nothing has changed except my boss. The last six months, my boss has been my fear: fear of rejection, fear of punishment, fear of betrayal._

" _But now I serve a new power, the power of God, the power of love._ "

" _Agent Miller,_ " Agent Paul suddenly interrupted, " _I don't care for your life story. I care about my case and how to bring Flynn down._ "

" _Agent Paul,_ " Meeks warned, " _I'd like to know the motivation behind a confession. It also protects us from a false lead._ " He stared at her until she relented and returned to her watchful post.

" _As I looked around, I saw a church and went in._ " He gave a little shrug as he looked down. " _I never really believed in an invisible friend, but I thought I'd might find advice there. But nobody was there, and so I started to read the Bible. I guess I thought it might help._ "

Miller relaxed his fingers again. The backs of his hands had small crescents from his fingernails. " _There was this one story about a man trying to serve two masters. But he failed because you can't. This man was like me. I tried to serve two masters, my conscience and duty, and Joe Flynn. But I couldn't serve both, so in reality I had lied to myself. Whatever I'd been telling myself, I was working for Flynn._

" _But I was trapped in my fear. I wasn't strong enough to withstand him. I wasn't even strong enough to tell my own wife what I've been become._ "

Meeks leaned back. " _Now you're here._ "

Miller nodded. He took a sip of his water. " _I thought, if there is a power greater than my fear, even greater than death, then this could be my ticket out. So I started to pray, just talking really, and suddenly I got it. I needed to start listening to my conscience again._ "

Miller snorted and looked down on his hands. " _I didn't need to read much of the Bible to know what that entails. I needed to do the right thing by trusting my new-found boss. I needed to trust that he was the highest power and nothing could come between me and this power._ "

" _And this changed what exactly?_ " Agent Paul asked sharply.

" _Everything._ " Miller answered with a bright smile. " _I knew it the moment Flynn called. Every single time before, I had felt the fear. I feared what he would ask and what I would do. But not this time; this time, I knew that it didn't matter what he would do or threaten to do because I had chosen a new master, and he had promised me freedom._ "

" _So you told him to ..._ " Paul moved her hand in a request to finished the sentence.

" _I didn't take the call. I ignored him. I didn't fear the thought of confession anymore. I was free, and I was not alone anymore. I was free, free to come forward and apologize, because I didn't have to fear your reaction anymore. I know what I did, and I repent, I am sorry, and I will carry whatever punishment it deserves._ "

" _Why didn't you just simply decide to stop helping him? We would have never suspected you_."

David wondered that as well.

" _It's easy to see the right thing when you're not paralyzed by fear. I needed to apologize, try to repair the damage, stop the source of more hurt, defend the poor and weary. I know Joe Flynn has to be stopped, because he can't stop himself anymore._ "

" _So, in conclusion: no deeper plan, no new threat from Joe Flynn. Just your new-found religion made you come forward._ " Agent Paul didn't need her face to express what she thought about this, her voice was enough. " _Okay, fine. Now, how do we stop Flynn now?_ "

" _I've already told you: I witnessed Joe Flynn orchestrating everything that night in the warehouse. I don't know exactly what he had planned to do, but he hadn't been prepared for a dead man. He looked even sicker than I felt when he realized that Martin was dead. He hadn't been pleased about it._ "

" _What else?_ "

" _Someone else was helping him..._ "

David stood like a statue next to the mirror in the observation room. Colby and Nikki quivered with anger, but Liz had the same stony expression on her face that he did. Agent Miller may have found God, but he brought them the miracle they needed. Enough proof to nail Joe Flynn.

David wasn't a praying man. But a thank you seemed appropriate. Maybe Don wasn't so wrong with his quest for more. David hoped that Don would take on his journey again after he had healed. Maybe he could tell David what he discovered.

* * *

 **Sat, 26 Sept - 22:00 - Flynn's House, Los Angeles**

"I'll be going now." Randall stood with a little bag in the entrance. He stood in stark contrast to the ritzy neighborhood.

Flynn nodded without turning around. He sat in front of his clear pool.

"Do you really not ... I can arrange ..."

"No." He spoke quietly, but with such force that Randall quit his attempts to persuade him to leave the city with him.

"Are you really sure? Don't worry about the FBI, they can't stop you."

This time Flynn turned around. "But I want to be around for my triumph."

Randall swallowed hard. "We will not get to Eppes."

Flynn smiled. "I may lose the war, but I will get the last word."

Nodding, Randall turned to the door. "I miss the little Mister Flynn as badly as you do, you know. I hope you find what you're looking for." With that, he closed the door behind him.

Joe Flynn was sure that he would be fine. Randall was the type of guy to have a backup plan and enough money and friends to start anew.

It was hard on the old bones to stand back up. He took a last slow walk around the house. Going into the master bedroom where he could still smell the perfume of his wife. He wandered further to the room Matthew had lived in before he went off to college. If he had never left, nothing like this would have happened.

He removed the dust from his desk and stared at the pictures around the room. He saw the photographs from his birthdays, family and friends. Fighting against the memories of the last time he had seen his son, in the morgue. He hadn't even been able to identify him by looking at his face. It had been unrecognizable. They couldn't even use dental records and had to rely on a DNA match.

Pressing his balled fist against his mouth, he swallowed the sob in his throat.

Tomorrow, this room would be violated again by the FBI, but Joe wouldn't let them take his victory.

He went in the big living room and lit a fire in the fireplace. It was neither necessary nor good for the heat. He did it because he could.

It all went downhill when Don Eppes never arrived at the meeting point. He had been waiting and waiting. With Randall or the money, whatever would work, he intended to finally achieve closure by dealing with the man who had destroyed his life by not dying.

He had gone from anger, to fury, to worry, and at last resignation.

The whole day he had tried to call DEA Agent Miller, but he had never taken the call.

Joe Flynn knew that this couldn't mean anything good.

But a small smile tugged at his lips as he imagined how his enemies would look and talk after he had explained everything. It already filled him with pleasure trying to imagine the pain and sorrow after they found out just whose fingerprints had prevented Don Eppes from being identified.

He would go to jail. But he would go with the sweet victory of delivering a final blow.

* * *

 _TBC_


	36. Connected Through Family III

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading, and if you left a review: thank you very much for telling me your thoughts. I appreciate it._

 _Miller had assumed that Don was dead and that the changed fingerprints wouldn't matter for a dead man. Additional, he restricted 'hurt' to the sole meaning of bodily harm, and so he could lie to himself as long as nobody died or he had to extend 'hurt' to the emotional pain.  
As for favoring his left side, it's coincidence. It stands for the damage done in the fight Don had with his assailants._

* * *

 **CONNECTED THROUGH FAMILY III**

* * *

 **Sun, Sept 27 - 08:00 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles**

Liz called him at six o'clock in the morning. "We got our warrant to arrest Flynn." She didn't need to tell him anything else except the meeting point.

Agent Paul just shot him a dark look when he arrived. The stare Liz got was longer and harder, but no words were spoken.

David assumed that she knew who told him where they were meeting.

She stared straight at him, raised a finger in warning and ordered, "Stay out of this."

Even Howard Meeks had come to watch from the front lines.

They had spent six months trying to find Don, trying to find anything on Joe Flynn that would prove that he himself had ordered Don's death. But they had found nothing.

David had spent a lot of time imagining what he would do to the man if he ever got the chance. But as Agent Paul led him from his house, it seemed far more anticlimactic than anticipated.

He wasn't a monster with wild fangs and wild eyes; instead, he was a small old man with hunched shoulders. Nothing about him seemed capable of creating the pain they all had felt the last few months.

The parade halted next to them and the cars.

"I am not the only one who is going down for this," Joe Flynn said with a last attempt at strength and bravado.

"No," DA Meeks agreed. "If you want to save your life, you have a lot of people to deliver. You've done a lot of damage to a lot of people's lives."

"Agent Eppes may not have been my primary target, but he was the perfect choice." A creepy and strange smile flashed across his face. "You should have seen the hurt on the good Ms. Brooks' face. It did sooth the soul."

David gave Paul a side way glance. She had picked up the same.

"Oh," Flynn said, "you want to know how I know this. Oliver Guire, the assistant of Robin Brooks, told me all about it."

"We know," Paul said and put on a bored mask.

Irritated, Flynn narrowed his eyes. "Do you also want to know who informed me about everything?"

David tensed.

"Allow me to save you the trouble. Agent Miller came to us. He got us the arrest warrant, not Don Eppes." Agent Paul leaned against the car in a relaxed position. She was clearly enjoying this.

The arrogance left Joe Flynn. "Did he really tell you everything?" He grasped straws.

"He told us that your son had never dealt or taken drugs. Apparently, you have no power over Agent Miller anymore."

"That isn't true!"

Agent Andrew grabbed Flynn's arm as anger and strength flowed through his small stature.

"There is no way! He had too much fear, too much -"

"What? You numbed your pain with the fear and the pain of others. Newsflash, you lost, because there is nobody else here to feed off of."

"No!"

Colby helped Andrew out; together, they managed to force the struggling Flynn into the car. His cries of denial were louder than their hard breaths or commands.

David stepped back.

Agent Paul watched the scene unfold as Colby drove Flynn away after Andrew got in the back with him.

"For years, I have asked myself why people go out and kill in revenge," David said. "Sometimes I understood, mostly I didn't. But this?" He turned to look straight at Agent Paul. "This is beyond my understanding. How can the solution to injustice be injustice? Why did he target Don if Don never actually did anything against him?"

"It's human nature. If you're hurt, you hurt the person next to you. It doesn't matter who you hurt as long as you are the provider and not the receiver."

"That's not an answer."

"No, it isn't. There is no answer except the human ability to do better than what our emotional reflexes tell us to do. You didn't strike back despite the hurt you felt. Neither did the Eppes family. Neither did Don."

"What do you mean?"

Paul kicked the dirt in front of her feet before she looked up. "When Eppes came up with his plan of a meeting with Flynn, I was sure that his aim was to kill him. But that wasn't the case."

"So 'be good' is your solution? What if it doesn't help?"

"Think about their end," Paul replied. "Think about the end and if this is the way you want to end."

David looked in the direction of the car that had taken Flynn away.

It pained him to admit, but Paul was right. Flynn had hurt the Eppes family for six long months. But now? Now he would be in prison for the rest of his life, and Alan and Charlie had a chance to get their son and brother back.

Short term gain didn't result in long term happiness.

David allowed Liz to drive him back to the office. Work was waiting, and he had a team to prepare for Don's return.

Because Don would come back. David had no doubt about it.

* * *

 **Sun, Sept 27 - 15:00 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

Charlie was reading through the new material from the FBI. Liz had brought it over. Larry and Amita both offered to help immediately. At Alan's request, they had stayed at home in the living room. Together.

The doorbell rang.

"David, come in." Alan greeted as he opened the door.

His father hold out his hand until David took it. Then he shook it with both of his hands. "Thank you! Thank you for finding my son and bringing him home."

David looked down as if he didn't deserve the praise. But despite everything, Charlie agreed with his father. David deserved these thanks, and he repeated it.

"Thank you, David."

Alan closed the door and came right to the most important question. "Where is Don? Can he come home?"

With a smile, David shook his head. "Don is safe. We're waiting for the investigation to run its course."

"What more do you need? I thought you arrested the man responsible."

"We need to be sure that Agent Miller was the only informant in the Bureau. And we need to wait for the dust to settle. There may still be open contracts, and it's going to take a few days until the last crook finds out that Flynn is history."

"Oh." Alan deflated. But as his gaze fell on the sofa, he perked up again. "How is he?"

David smiled. "According to the update from the Marshals, he is fine."

"Hmm, fine. How fine?" His father wasn't convinced.

"Apparently, all he does is sleep and look out the window. They did another hospital visit to check his injury and do some scans. He's healing nicely."

Charlie pumped his fist in the air. "I knew it!"

"Charlie, I think we all hoped it would be this easy, but Don had good reason to be as mistrusting as he was," David explained.

"What reasons?" Amita asked.

David apparently found his shoes to be quite interesting. As he looked up again, his face was clouded with emotion. "Now that he is recovering, it is his story to tell you and not mine. But I do have good news. We are already preparing a video call. Then you can see and talk to him again."

The relief and joy was palpable in the air. Alan's smile was infectious. Charlie couldn't quite forget David's statement about Don's story. But one glance at his dad, and he knew he wouldn't ask again as long as his father was near.

"How's Robin? I thought she was here?" David looked around.

"She is fine. She just overdid the last few days after surgery and is resting."

"Of course."

Amita put down her file. "Is it true that her assistant Oliver Guire worked for Flynn?"

"So it would seem. Guire reported on her to Flynn because Flynn wanted to see and hear every detail of her pain. Additionally, Flynn got the location where Robin and Don would meet from him."

"So that's how he knew. They were completely blindsided."

David nodded. "Neither Don nor Robin could have anticipated the attack or prepare for it."

"Why would he do it?" Alan asked.

"Apparently, the Guire family had used the services of Flynn Logistics to transport items that the government would not appreciate, especially in a place like Northern Ireland. Flynn used this knowledge to his advantage and blackmailed him for his cooperation."

"I didn't mean Guire, I meant Flynn. Why would he use this man?"

David looked around to verify that Robin wasn't in hearing range. "He wanted to hear about how much she suffered. He apparently lost interest in her death and wanted her in pain."

"He is a mean man," Larry stated.

David nodded. "He was a man bent on revenge and left a swath of destruction in his path."

The room descended into silence. Everybody thought about the pain and destruction he had accomplished.

Charlie didn't want to think about that anymore. They had won, they had conquered the evil, and they would get Don back. He was even willing to – begrudgingly – acknowledge Agent Paul's contribution, despite her best intentions almost costing Don's freedom.

He looked toward David. "What about Agent Paul?"

"Oh, you and Nikki and the whole office will be glad to hear that she had to leave for Houston for another emergency case. She will be available in case of any questions and will likely turn up for the court date, but until then..."

"Hopefully she won't ruin another -"

"Charlie, she didn't ruin anything. She worked it differently from what I would have done, but not necessarily worse. She actually came around in the end and apologized." David defended her. Charlie guessed that this was part of his job description. He opened his mouth to repeat his point of view before he caught a look from his father. Apparently, David and his dad had the same job.

"Do you want to stay for -?" Alan offered.

"No, Alan. I only want a good night's sleep without worry or nightmares. So, I am off home for an early night. My own cases and a whole stack of paperwork are already waiting for me tomorrow."

Pointing to the files on the table, David added, "We have more than enough on Flynn through Guire and Miller. We'll gladly use anything else you can find about the inner workings or his contacts, but this can wait for normal hours. Just relax."

"If anything changes -" Alan held out his hand.

David shook it. "I will call you the moment I hear anything from Don or about his return. I'm guessing the video call will happen tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

David closed the door behind him.

For a moment, they enjoyed the quiet and peace. Then his father clapped his hands together, startling everybody. "I should prepare something for Don. Maybe David can send him something-"

"Dad I don't think the kitchen has recovered enough for another attack...," Charlie trailed off because his father had already vanished behind the kitchen door.

He turned to Amita and Larry. "I guess we are going to play tester for the most delicious food Dad knows how to prepare."

Amita smiled. "I can think of worse."

"Yeah? What would that be?" He asked with a big smile.

"Preparing a funeral." Her comment instantly sobered the whole atmosphere.

"I am happy that there is no funeral in the near future, but still I will take my prerogative of freedom and leave these premises to return to my studies."

"Coward," Charlie hissed.

Larry went to the door. "That may be, but I won't have to clean up a kitchen."

Amita and Charlie just laughed.

* * *

 _TBC_


	37. Epilogue I - A New Beginning

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you for reading. And thank you Mega07ghost and other guest for your well-considered reviews.  
DA Meeks is considering the death penalty hinted by his words 'if you want to save your life'. Flynn thinks he has enough to offer for a good deal. I'll leave the bargaining of details the lawyers.  
Yes, this tale is winding down but there are still some things that needs to be wrapped up._

* * *

 **EPILOGUE - A NEW BEGINNING**

* * *

 **Sat, Oct 3 - 15:00 - Hotel, Unknown City**

Robin smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt from the long car ride. She had agonized over what to wear ever since Agent Long had informed her that they could arrange a meeting with Don.

In the end, she had settled for a comfortable skirt and simple blouse. It wasn't a date. It felt more like a meet and greet. She knew him well, remembered everything about him. But how much would he remember her?

Everything that she had seen and heard filled her with fear. Especially what Charlie had told her. David was careful in his words despite her apology. But he probably wanted to protect Don more than her.

Now she stood in a hotel lobby with sweaty palms and waited for the okay of the Marshals. Since the US Marshal Service had taken over the protection detail, nothing had happened. The threat analysis slowly indicated less and less risk to Don until, finally, they had agreed to a meeting.

Robin sighed. She glanced at her watch. She and contemplated her reflection in the small glass. She smiled; she had always associated the watch on her wrist with Don. She had butterflies in her stomach, but they were there for a good reason. Don was alive. And he had agreed to see her. Of course, it was anybody's guess whether the agreement was voluntary or not. Or if he only wanted to see her to tell her goodbye. She was, after all, responsible for his predicament. Flynn had been after her. He'd lost everything just because he was dating Robin.

Kneading her fingers, she reminded herself again of the patient and wise words of Alan Eppes, who was actually thrilled that she was the first to meet with Don in person. She had stayed in the background whenever Alan and Charlie had come to the office to video call Don.

She had called Alan immediately after the Marshals had called her to offer him the visit. But Alan had vehemently denied her. He wanted her to go, because she needed Don as much as he needed her. They had their phone calls, but some things between her and Don could only be discussed in person.

"Ms. Brooks?"

She jerked and whirled around. A man with gray hair and thin build stood in front of her. He could have passed for a businessman like everyone else in the hotel, but Robin recognized the attentive stare and strong presence.

"Marshal Fresner?"

He gave a small smile and nod. Without taking his eyes off the lobby, he offered her his badge, and despite all the excitement, Robin took the time to study it. It was legitimate.

"Where is he?"

"This way." He indicated the way to the elevators, and Robin followed eagerly. Her own protection had been reduced to an LAPD unit near her home after the arrest of Joe Flynn.

"How is he?"

Marshal Fresner gave her a small smile as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. The ride with the elevator seemed to take ages.

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

Robin fingered the strap of her bag. "I just don't want to put additional stress on him. Dr. Ramirez has stressed the importance of rest for his recovery, and -"

"Ms. Brooks, believe me, he got more than enough rest. But now he needs something different." The elevator arrived at their floor, and he left the car, expecting her to follow.

The nearer the door came, the stronger her nerves fluttered. Then she was through the door, greeted the Marshal in the room, and saw Don sitting on the bed in the adjoining room. Her feet carried her faster than her mind could stop her.

She needed to touch him, to feel him, to reassure herself that he was indeed alive.

"Call out if you need me," Marshall Fresner said as he closed the door behind her.

"Hi, Don."

He stood up. With his blue jeans and white tee, he looked normal. He looked alive.

"Hi."

They stood in front of each other carefully, not touching or even entering their personal space. It was worse than two strangers meeting. Strangers didn't have the expectation of each other.

"I'm sorry-"

"I am so sorry."

Their apologies clashed, and neither knew what to say.

Robin was the one with all of her memories. She was the one that made her living by talking. Thinking furiously, she couldn't think of a single thing that would make this less awkward. So, humor had to do it.

"So, is the US Marshal Service so much better than the FBI, or have you forgotten how to get into trouble?"

He stared at her. It was the wrong thing to say, but then his shoulders lessened their tense stance.

And he smiled a little while rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess family makes all the difference."

"Difference?"

He sat back down on the bed. "Yeah. I wanted to see Dad and Charlie again. I had a goal. So, I decided it would probably be easier to reach this goal if these guys actually liked me or something." He shrugged.

Robin nodded, forcing her lips to stop smiling. "I think Alan and Charlie are going to be thrilled to hear that."

A special smile glowed on his face. But then suddenly the crinkles around his eyes disappeared and a frown appeared. "How are they? I didn't want-"

Robin interrupted him. "They are fine. They are more than fine. You are alive, and they will see you again..." She looked down and laughed. "Of course, if the FBI keeps you here much longer, Alan is probably going to start a protest march in front of the FBI building."

An alarmed look flashed across Don's face. "He shouldn't-"

Holding up her hand, she interrupted his panic. "Don't worry. Your team and the ADIC really like them. They're fine."

"You're sure? Even after all the stuff I did?"

Robin smiled. "Especially after all the stuff you pulled. They will never tell you, but they're kind of impressed how resourceful you can be with literally nothing."

Don looked down. "Yeah. I guess I have a lot of apologizing to do."

Robin perched down on the edge of a little green armchair across the bed. "I came to apologize, actually," she said haltingly. "You and your family were only in this situation because of me, and I ..." The tears she had promised herself she wouldn't let fall, pooled around her eyes. "You were taken and almost died because of me and -"

Suddenly Don knelt next to her. "Look at me," he ordered.

He gently raised her chin with his finger until she had to look at him. "I may not remember all the details, but I am pretty sure that I was with you in that restaurant because I wanted to be with you in that restaurant. Nobody forced me. And I would do it again." She smiled. "Just, you know, without the kidnapping, overdose, and losing my memories bit."

She gave him a teary smile. "But-"

"You," he just talked over her, "you didn't kill that kid. You didn't lie. You didn't falsify a report. You didn't fail to report new developments. Neither the kid's death, nor anything else is your fault."

She nodded because she was supposed to nod. And because it felt good to hear it, to hear it from the one man that meant more than all the others.

"And seeing as I am still alive and even remembering some things, I guess I will have to stick around to remind you again and again." He gave her a tentative smile and returned to his safe place on the bed.

"And it is me who has to apologize."

"For what?"

"For the drawings. I wouldn't have-"

"Stop." Robin stood up and went over to him. Taking the risk, she sat down next to him. "Stop. You are not at fault here."

"Robin, I can't even imagine what damage they already did and will do to your reputation, to your job-"

"Stop, Don!" She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "First, it is a pretty high compliment that you drew me and not a single one of your ex-girlfriends. Secondly, my reputation was shot when I fell apart after you went missing." She looked at him to show him how serious she was. "And thirdly, not many people have seen them or will see them."

"Paul classified them as evidence and seized them."

"Yes, but Kirkan and Twist took a deal. At first, they didn't fall for the deal Meeks and Paul offered. They changed their tone and signed a confession after Flynn was arrested and after Howard Meeks showed them the other drawings and explained the impact drawings like that will have on a jury. They didn't even need your witness statement."

"You mean the witness statement that not even I remember?"

Robin gave him a big smile. "You should have seen how they caved."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "You mean they let you in the same room?"

She tried and failed to look guilty. "I may not be able to protect you with a gun and vest, but I know my law."

He smiled. "Gun? Our first date was at a gun range."

"Date? I only remember a lot of kissing and the beginning of your habit of being called away in the middle of things."

He looked at her and their entangled hands. The smile dimmed. "I guess the calling away will be over now."

"Don't be so sure." She shook her head. "Charlie has calculated every day's probability that you'll be back at work for the next few months."

Don barked out a laugh. "Charlie, huh? Is everything still numbers for him?"

"Everything is numbers."

He shook his head. "There are no FBI agents with a memory like Swiss cheese."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Charlie's math also said that his brother is alive despite both the FBI and the DA thinking otherwise. I am inclined to trust his math." She rubbed her thumb over his hand.

"Charlie. I guess I have to apologize to him then, too."

"About?"

He grimaced. "Forgetting that he is my brother." He shrugged. "And more or less making an accusation out of his cooperation with the FBI."

"Don't worry. He is busy using his experience with you and your memory as the basis of his new work. He even wants to name a paper after you." Robin recounted the events of the last days.

Don stared at her with wide eyes.

At his stare, she reassured him. "Amita is defending you. She knows you'll hate it."

"So does Charlie," Don pointed out.

"Yes, but this is the reason he wants to do it." She beamed at him. "The wonder of little brothers," she added.

"Besides Alan is not going to let anything happen between his two boys. Oh," she jumped up and grabbed her bag from the armchair. "Alan sends his greetings and this." She held out a small roll of aluminum foil. "He believes that your memory will return faster through food. He has prepared thousands of different meals trying to find the one that will resonate the best with you."

He tenderly took the offered item.

"And he wanted me to give you this." She rummaged in her bag until she located a book. "He said it is important to you."

She recognized the Hebrew letters, but she couldn't read them.

Don took the book even more tenderly. "I don't," his voice broke off. "I don't think I can read it."

Robin sat back down next to him. "Just try when you're ready. I believe you still know the words by heart."

He carefully opened the prayer book at the right side. Robin always found it strange to start a book at the end, but as she saw how tenderly his finger followed the lines as his lips moved, she looked away to give him some privacy.

After a long moment, his voice broke the background noise of the ventilator. "I can read it. Even without really knowing."

He sounded surprised.

She used the moment to dab at her eyes.

"Don't cry," Don said. "Beautiful woman like you shouldn't be allowed to cry."

"I see you're still a smooth talker."

He gave her rueful smile. "I have to practice if I want David ever talk to me again."

"Oh, don't worry about David. He doesn't hold a grudge."

"Except if you're a spy, or double spy, or triple spy for the Chinese."

Robin had to laugh. Maybe there hadn't been enough time to heal all wounds, but scars in your memory had to be better than no memories at all. "So you remember Colby."

"Yeah, wish I could forget that debacle. Except, you know, not the forgetting everything part."

He put his prayer book down next to the head of the bed. To reach the little cabinet, he had to lean so far forward that he almost touched her. She closed her eyes as she smelled his hair and felt the warmth of his body. She wanted to reach out but held onto herself. Charlie and everybody else had repeatedly warned her. He didn't react well to touches.

She said instead, "I think Colby would also like to forget it."

"Yeah." He came back up. But he had allowed the nearness.

Slowly and carefully, she moved her head until it touched his shoulder. His hand found her hand again.

"How long can you stay?" he asked. His voice was carefully measured to hide every emotion in it like he had learned in Quantico.

"As long as you want me to stay," she answered. Actually, she hadn't asked anybody, but right now nobody would be able to drag her away.

"Then stay a little longer."

"Gladly."

* * *

 _TBC_


	38. Epilogue II - Family

_Special thanks to_ _ **ancientmaverick**_ _for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

 _Thank you very much for your reviews!_

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 **EPILOGUE II - FAMILY**

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 **Sat, Oct 24 - 17:00 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles**

The last rays of the sun glittered across the garden and warmed its occupants. It was a nice warm and relaxing Saturday afternoon. Alan had invited the team. Together with Charlie, Amita and Larry, they were celebrating their victory. Alan had hoped Don would have been home already, but the FBI and DA were dragging their feet in lifting the necessity for protection.

Despite missing Don, it was a homecoming party. It was not a question of if, now, but when he would be home.

"Thank you, Alan, for the invitation," Liz said as she put down the bowl of salad.

Together with Alan's preparation, the grill manned by Colby and all the drinks, it was enough food to feed a small army.

"Yeah, thank you, Alan," David agreed. "This is a much-needed relaxing weekend."

Nikki raised her glass in agreement but remained sitting in her deck chair.

Suddenly the relaxed atmosphere was interrupted by a knock against wood.

"Are you celebrating without me?" A familiar voice asked.

Don stepped out of the shadow of the house.

Alan turned around. "Donnie!" He jumped up and hurried over.

Everybody else rose to watch the reunion and to verify that it really was Don who had returned.

Standing in front of his son, Alan hesitated a moment. Then he opened his arms and without a word, Don allowed and returned the embrace.

It was a longer hug than normal for these two, but everybody smiled as they finally let go.

"You're already here?" Alan asked and looked Don over. He still wore simple jeans, a tee, and a sweater. "You look good."

"I couldn't wait any longer," Don smiled.

Charlie stood in line to hug his brother. Sharing a quick embrace, Charlie joked, "Please, don't tell me that you've ditched your protection again."

In the sudden quiet, the rustling of clothes was easily audible as David, Colby and Liz checked their phones.

"Ouch," Don made a grimace. "I guess this is payback for my less than stellar performance."

Colby and Liz pocketed their phones, looking down guiltily.

But David raised his head to meet Don's challenging look. "It's not payback. I've just learned how resourceful you can be."

With a laugh, Robin appeared behind Don on the steps. "Don't worry, we are here officially and came straight from the FBI office."

Rubbing the back of his head, Don said, "Yeah, I want to apologize for the last time we all met. I'm sorry."

Nikki was the first to recover from the unexpected apology. She returned to her deck chair and sat down. "Don't worry. You weren't any worse than a normal day at the office."

Everybody laughed out loud. Only David held a hand in front of his eyes. "She's never going to change or learn," he muttered.

"What?" Nikki asked, raising her head in indignation; but her smile already gave her away.

Amita stood up and opened her arms wide. "Don, I've promised you a hug after you remembered me. I intend to collect."

Don smiled and accepted the embrace.

Larry stepped forward. "Your brother is certainly right. You are difficult to predict."

Don laughed. "As long as I am not pi."

Alan's gaze hurried across the garden and food as if he had to check whether he could feed and entertain two additional guests. "Can you stay or do you have to go again?"

"We can stay," Robin said. "The protection order has been officially lifted. We are all now back to being responsible for our own safety."

"Finally," Don grouched.

Looking around, he added, "And seeing as I don't have an apartment anymore, I either need a hotel for the night or -"

"You stay right here!" Charlie and Alan said in unison.

"Thank you."

Colby laughed and hit Don playfully in the shoulder. "If you thought that protective custody was bad, just wait until you stay home."

Don smiled good naturally. "I think I remember well what to do to be kicked out."

Alan and Charlie laughed in agreement and enjoyment of the return of their loved one.

"Now that you're home," Charlie said still smiling, "you can help me with my Convergence Emergence Theory."

"Charlie," Don smirked, "I remember now, and I know that I don't do math."

"See," Charlie looked to his girlfriend, "that isn't true. You do math. Even when you didn't remember anything else, you still remembered my math. So you certainly do math."

Amita winked smiling at the brothers, especially as Don rolled his eyes sighing. "I knew that there would be consequences."

David, who had been silent until now, stood up and looked right at his former and future boss. "Next time you lose your memory or get a drug overdose, I am taking a leave of absence."

Alan shook his head. But it was Robin who beat him in words. "There won't be a next time."

This statement was met with agreement all around except Don and David. They continued with their silent conversation as if Robin hadn't said anything.

"You can't," Don finally said still holding David's gaze. "Who is going to be my friend if you're not there?"

For a long moment, David didn't answer. Everyone else held their breath, hoping that this friendship wouldn't become the last victim of Joe Flynn. The team would never be the same.

Suddenly, David began to smile. "Fine," he said, "but then I am throwing you into a cell and waiting until you are yourself again."

Don snorted. "Fair enough." Then he held out his hand. "We're good?"

David stepped forward, grabbing the offered hand. "We're good."

He pulled Don forward for a little hug and clapped him on the shoulder. As they separated again, the whole family knew everything was fine; not forgotten, but forgiven.

"We should leave," Liz suddenly said. "You -"

"No," Alan interrupted her before she could finish. "You are all staying here. Let's enjoy the one time where all of you can be here. I never took the time before, but it's never too late to start being thankful for what you have before you lose it."

"Wise words, Alan," Larry agreed.

"And besides," Alan continued, "I still have to thank you all for bringing Don home."

Don looked down. "Dad, if somebody has to say thank you, it should be me."

"Let's just say that we're all thankful." David took his glass and raised it in a toast.

Everybody grabbed a glass to share the thanks.

The cheers filled the air, echoed by the surrounding nature.

Don took a glass of water. He waited until everybody had quieted down and raised their glasses in anticipation.

"To family. May you always know who it is and may you always have the strength to forgive your brother, to love your mother, and to honor your father. May you have the strength to be the rock of your family if needed, and may you have the trust to hold onto the rock in times of need."

"To family." Everybody agreed in unison.

Alan smiled at his sons. For the first time since he had disappeared, Don Eppes let a full smile bloom on his face. It was reflected in the faces of his friends and family.

It was the smile of contentment, the smile after reaching the mountaintop. They all had fought a battle. They had won and reached the top.

Hope. Joy. Faith. Family.

Don Eppes was finally home.

 _ **The END** _

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_A/N Well, Don is finally home! Thank you very much for sticking with this story. Every single review, follow, favorite and comment is so much appreciated._

 _Special thanks goes to: ancientmaverick for beta reading, Mega07ghost and other guest for your continuous and trusty reviews._

 _Thank you all for reading._


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